He strove to rise, but a powerful hand on his shoulder pushed him back, though gently, and a low voice said: "Stay still, Mr.Mason.We mustn't make any sound now!" Dick recognized in dim wonder the voice of Sergeant Daniel Whitley.

How he had come there at such a time, and what he was doing now was past all guessing, but Sergeant Whitley was a most competent man.

He knew more than most generals, and he was filled with the lore of the woods.

He would trust him.

He let his head sink back on the folded blanket, and his heavy eyes closed again.
When Dick roused from his stupor the sergeant was still by his side, and, as his eyes grew used to the darkness, he noticed that Whitley was really kneeling rather than sitting, crouched to meet danger, his finger on the trigger of a rifle.