Their appetites grew lax and finally ceased.  Then Leffingwell yawned and stretched his arms.

“Stranger,” he said, “we rise early an’ go to bed early in these parts.  Thar ain’t nothin’ to keep us up in the evenin’s, an’ as you’ve had a hard, long ride I guess you’re just achin’ fur sleep.”

Dick, although he had been unwilling to say so, was in fact very sleepy.  The heavy supper and the heat of the room pulled so hard on his eyelids that he could scarcely keep them up.  He murmured his excuses and said he believed he would like to retire.

“Don’t you be bashful about sayin’ so,” exclaimed Leffingwell heartily, “’cause I don’t think I could keep up more’n a half hour longer.”

Mrs. Leffingwell drew the curtain shutting off one bed and a small space around it.  Dick, used to primitive customs, said good-night and retired within his alcove, taking his saddle bags.  There was a small window near the foot of the room, and when he noticed it he resolved to let in a little air later on.  The mountaineers liked hot rooms all the time, but he did not.  This window contained no glass, but was closed with a broad shutter.

The boy undressed and got into bed, placing his saddle bags on the foot of it, and the pistol that he carried in his belt under his head.  He fell asleep almost immediately and had he been asked beforehand he would have said that nothing could awake him before morning.  Nevertheless he awoke before midnight, and it was a very slight thing that caused him to come out of sleep.  Despite the languor produced by food and heat a certain nervous apprehension had been at work in the boy’s mind, and it followed him into the unknown regions of sleep.  His body was dead for a time and his mind too, but this nervous power worked on, almost independently of him.  It had noted the sound of voices nearby, and awakened him, as if he had been shaken by a rough hand.

He sat up in his bed and became conscious of a hot and aching head.  Then he remembered the window, and softly drawing two pegs that fastened it in order that he might not awaken his good hosts, he opened it inward a few inches.

The cold air poured in at the crevice and felt like heaven on his face.  His temples quit throbbing and his head ceased to ache.  He had not noticed at first the cause that really awakened him, but as he settled back into bed, grateful for the fresh air, the same mysterious power gave him a second warning signal.

He heard the hum of voices and sat up again.  It was merely the Leffingwells in the bed at the far end of the room, talking!  Perhaps he had not been asleep more than an hour, and it was natural that they should lie awake a while, talking about the coming of this young stranger or any other event of the day that interested them.  Then he caught a tone or an inflection that he did not remember to have been used by either of the Leffingwells.  A third signal of alarm was promptly registered on his brain.