'Don't worry. You shall sleep between me and the rock. It'll take you all
your time to roll over me.'
The sun was down, darkness was already shrouding the depths of space
beneath them. The Turks seemed to have left. At any rate, Ken and Roy
could hear no more of them. The evening silence was broken only by the
mysterious whisper of the evening breeze as it stole down the canon, and
by a faint and distant popping of rifle shots.
Roy stretched his long legs and yawned.
'I'm for supper,' he observed, as he took his iron ration out of his
haversack. 'We'll share this to-night, Ken, and breakfast off yours in the
morning. Luckily I've still got some water in my bottle.'
The emergency or iron ration consists mainly of concentrated beef,
biscuit, and chocolate. There is not much of it, so far as bulk goes, but
it is very sustaining. Roy carefully divided his into two lots, and they
ate slowly, and finished their slim repast with a drink of water.
Then, after chatting a while, they stretched themselves out to sleep.
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