The Child felt quite sure that he had been quite still for at least an hour.

If nothing interesting had happened in all that time, then nothing interesting was going to happen, nothing interesting could happen.

An awful distrust assailed him.

Was it possible that Uncle Andy had merely adopted this base means of teaching him to keep still?
Was it possible that even now Uncle Andy (whose face was turned the other way) was either laughing deeply in his sleeve or sleeping the undeservedly peaceful sleep of the successful deceiver?
To do the Child justice, he felt ashamed of such doubts as soon as he had fairly confronted himself with them.

Then, in the ninth minute, both legs began to fill up with pins and needles.