I replied that of course I knew my profession.

"Well, then, as we have still some hours of night, let us now obtain
some rest. In the morning, when the sun hath introduced us to each
other, I may then judge from your countenances whether it is likely that
we may be better acquainted. Night is the time for repose, as Quintus
Curtius says, '_Custos, bos, fur atque sacerdos_. Sleep was made for
all--my friends, good-night."




Chapter IX

In which the adventures in the wagon are continued, and we become
more puzzled with our new companions--We leave off talking Latin,
and enter into an engagement.


Timothy and I took his advice, and were soon fast asleep. I was awakened
the next morning by feeling a hand in my trouser's pocket. I seized it,
and held it fast.

"Now just let go my hand, will you?" cried a lachrymal voice.

I jumped up--it was broad daylight, and looked at the human frame to
which the hand was an appendix. It was a very spare, awkwardly-built
form of a young man, apparently about twenty years old, but without the
least sign of manhood on his chin. His face was cadaverous, with large
goggling eyes, high cheek bones, hair long and ragged, reminding me of a