I don't want to stunt your growth, an' you already sech a feeble, delicate sort o' creetur, not able to take nourishment 'ceptin' from a spoon." "Thar ain't no reward in this world fur a good man," said the shiftless one in a resigned tone.
They ate quickly, and, as usual, those who did not have to watch wrapped themselves in their blankets and with equal quickness fell asleep.
Shif'less Sol took his place in the prow of the boat, and his attitude was much like that of Tom Ross the night before, only lazier and more graceful.

Sol was a fine figure of a young man, drooped in a luxurious and reclining attitude, his shoulder against the side of the boat, and a roll of two blankets against his back.

His eyes were half closed, and a stray observer, had there been any, might have thought that he was either asleep or dreaming.
But the shiftless one, fit son of the wilderness, was never more awake in his life.

The eyes, looking from under the lowered lids, pierced the forest like those of a cat.

He saw and noted every tree trunk within the range of human vision, and no piece of floating debris on the surface of the flooded river escaped his attention.