There was a restless feeling in the Camp that evening and none of us
lingered round the fire after supper as usual. Sangree and I busied
ourselves with patching up the torn tent for our guest and with finding
heavy stones to hold the ropes, for Dr. Silence insisted on having it
pitched on the highest point of the island ridge, just where it was most
rocky and there was no earth for pegs. The place, moreover, was midway
between the men's and women's tents, and, of course, commanded the most
comprehensive view of the Camp.
"So that if your dog comes," he said simply, "I may be able to catch him
as he passes across."
The wind had gone down with the sun and an unusual warmth lay over the
island that made sleep heavy, and in the morning we assembled at a late
breakfast, rubbing our eyes and yawning. The cool north wind had given
way to the warm southern air that sometimes came up with haze and
moisture across the Baltic, bringing with it the relaxing sensations
that produced enervation and listlessness.
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