"Where are you going to sleep, then, Uncle Jack?"
Jack laughed. "I think," he said, "that the rancher and the
cook will sleep in the wagon, and let you sleep under the wagon.
Nothing makes a boy grow like sleeping rolled up in a blanket
under a wagon. You'll be six inches taller if you do it every
night till we get back."
"Well, I don't think so," said Ollie, just a little alarmed
at the prospect. "I'd prefer to sleep in the wagon. Maybe what
Grandpa Oldberry said about wild animals is so. You say you like
to shoot 'em, so you stay outside and do it--I don't."
At last it was arranged that Ollie and I should sleep inside
and Jack under the wagon. We were surprised to find how early we
were ready for bed. The long ride and the fresh air had given us
an appetite for sleep. So we soon turned in, the dog staying
outside with Jack.
"Good-night, Uncle Jack!" called Ollie, as we put out the
lantern and covered up in the narrow bed. "Look out for
painters!"
I was almost asleep when Ollie shook me, and whispered,
"What's that noise?"
I listened, and heard a regular, hollow, booming sound,
something like the very distant discharge of cannon.
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