He glanced at the prisoner
but Paul had not stirred, the moon's rays illuminating his face with a
pale light. The renegade, too, slept soundly.
Alvarez wrapped himself in his blanket after the fashion of the others,
and lay down, but still sleep would not come. He knew that it was far in
the night and he wished to be rested and fresh for the next day, but he
lay awake, nevertheless. A half hour passed, and then came that plaintive
cry of the wolf again. As before, it seemed to be wonderfully distinct and
full of character, but it was nearer now. Francisco Alvarez raised
himself on his elbow, and heard it a second and then a third and fourth
time. After that only the heavy silence of the forest.
"The same as before," murmured the Spaniard to himself. "The wolf howled
four times. What a coincidence! Bah, I'm becoming a superstitious fool!"
He resolutely closed his eyes and sought slumber once more. It was far
past midnight now, and weary nature began at last her task. His nerves
were soothed. A soft breeze fanned his eyelids with drowsy wing, the
forest wavered, swam away, and he slept.
Red dawn was coming when Francisco Alvarez awoke. The fire was dead and
cold, and the men around it yet slumbered. The two sentinels, one to the
right and one to the left, still sat on the logs, backs toward him.
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