At first she thought he was asleep; then, when she saw him take off his hat and smooth back his hair, she knew that she was mistaken.
It was long past midnight when Grace again roused herself and got up with a feeling that all was not well.

A quick survey of the camp from her tent revealed nothing disturbing.

Hippy was in the same position in which she had seen him some hours before and not a sound was heard from the ponies' direction.
Picking up her rifle, and strapping on her revolver, Grace stepped over to Hippy and peered down into his face.

He was sound asleep and snoring.
"It were a pity to wake him," she muttered, moving quietly away and sitting down within a dozen feet of the sleeping man to guard the camp for the rest of the night.
Grace suddenly tensed with every faculty on the alert.

She thought she heard something moving cautiously in the bushes at the left of the camp.
A few moments of listening convinced her that she was right.