But I shall be merciful if you, in turn, show some charity in teaching me how to shoot." The Little Missioner finished his polishing, set the rifle against the wall, and took the gloves in his hands.
"It is bright--almost like day--outside," he said a little yearningly.
"Are you--tired ?" His hint was obvious, even to Mukoki, who stared at him from under his blanket.

And David was not tired.

If his afternoon's work had fatigued him his exhaustion was forgotten in the mental excitement that had followed the Missioner's story of Tavish.

He took a pair of the gloves in his hands, and nodded toward the door.
"You mean...." Father Roland was on his feet.
"If you are not tired.

It would give us a better stomach for sleep." Mukoki rolled from his blanket, a grin on his leathery face.