"Find the watch pleasant?" asked Compton, sleepily, as Mr. Hume
turned in.

"Awfully cheerful," said Venning, earnestly; "but I'm not selfish,
and you can take your turn at it on the tick of the hour."

Compton dived for his rugs, and Venning once more returned to his
duties with his harpoon over his knees, and a string of winged
visitors entering joyously by the hole he had made in the curtain.
He pinned his handkerchief over the rent to stop further free
entrance, then made war on those which had entered--an amusement
which carried him well into the fourth and last hour of the first
watch. Then he sat up to listen for the old sounds--the groans and
the snorts--but they had ceased. A mist, like a wet blanket, had
settled down over the Okapi, over the islands and the river; and,
though any sounds made on the water were startlingly distinct,
confined as the sound-waves were by the mist, the creatures had
evidently gone to sleep. There was, however, one visitor faithful to
him. The light of the lantern, which showed the rolling wreaths of
the mist, just reached the water, and in the reflection he saw two
greenish points. After long looking, he made out that these were the
eyes of a crocodile, whose body was half in and half out of the
water, the tail end of him being anchored on the little island. At
eleven o'clock he roused Compton by dragging at his ankle.

Compton sat up, rubbed his eyes, and drew his rug over his
shoulders.

"What's the countersign, comrade?" he asked, with a yawn.