Since they could do nothing but wait, helpless and almost despairing, for the return of the child, they sat down on the prostrate trunk.
Ben was near the base, close to the mass of upturned roots, which spread out like an enormous fan, with its dirt and prong-like roots projecting in all directions.

He was tired, depressed, and worn out.

It will be remembered he had not slept a wink during the preceding night, or eaten a mouthful of food since then.

Strong, sturdy, and lusty as he was, he could not help feeling the effects of all this.
He leaned his rifle against a huge, gnarled root, within arm's length of where he half reclined, with his feet extended along the trunk.

He had but to reach out his hand, without moving his body, to grasp the weapon whatever moment it might be needed.
Exhausted as he was, his condition was too nervous to permit slumber.
His mother had said she thought the end was at hand, and he believed the same.
She was but a few feet away, sitting more erect on the tree, with Alice leaning against her.
The eyes of all were turned toward the point where Linna had vanished, and whence she was expected every minute to come into view again.
She was not far off.