All was silent around me.

I peered first at my master, then at Tom Drift; they were both asleep--sleeping, perhaps, as simply as ever they did in those bygone days--Tom kneeling still by the bedside with his head upon his arms, and Charlie turned towards him with one hand upon his friend's, and I--I lay between them.
Thus the sultry Indian night passed, and then at the little window opposite there came a faint gleam of light.
Charlie woke first, and, laying his hand gently on Tom's arm, said, "Tom Drift, old fellow!" With a start and a bound Tom was awake and on his feet, staring in a bewildered way round him.
At last his eyes fell on Charlie, and he remembered where he was.

"I was asleep and dreaming," he said.
"So was I," said Charlie--and _I_ could almost guess what their dreams had been.
"Now, Tom," said Charlie, "you must look to my wound." "My poor boy!" exclaimed Tom; "to think I have forgotten it all this time!" "It's not worth bothering about, after all," said my master, "But see, Tom, the day is breaking." "Ay!" said Tom, looking down with a new light in his weary eyes, "the day _is_ breaking!".