But otherwise doing quite well.


'How's that?' asked Jack. 'I shall be able to drive Bell off her own
field, with a little practice.'

'Go to sleep!' roared Dr. Paul. 'In your present condition of mind
and body you are not fit for poetry!'

'That's just the point, sir,' retorted Jack, slyly, 'for, you
remember, poets are not FIT, but nascitur,--don't you know?' and he
retired under his blanket for protection.

But quiet seemed to be impossible: there were all sorts of strange
sounds; and the moon, too, was so splendid that they almost felt as
if they were lying beneath the radiance of a calcium light; while in
the dark places, midst the branches of thick foliage, the owls hooted
gloomily. If you had happened to be an owl in that vicinity, you
might have heard not only the feverish tossing to and fro of the
girls in the hammocks, but many dismal sighs and groans from Dr.
Winship and the boys; for the bare ground is, after all, more
rheumatic than romantic, and they too tumbled from side to side,
seeking comfort.

But at midnight quiet slumber had descended upon them, and they
presented a funny spectacle enough to one open-eyed watcher. A long
slender sycamore log was extended before the fire, and constituted
their pillow; on this their heads reposed, each decorated with a
tightly fitting silk handkerchief; then came a compact, papoose-like
roll of grey blanket, terminated by a pair of erect feet, whose