After some further talk
the two went back to their tent and lay down on their cots.
Five minutes later Harry's quiet, regular breathing betrayed the
fact that he was asleep. With a stealthy movement, Tom Reade
threw down the blankets, reached for his shoes, his coat and hat
and stole out into the quiet and darkness.
From other tents and shacks nearby came snores that showed how
soundly miners could sleep.
"I believe this is the first night that I ever failed to sleep
on account of business worries," muttered Reade grimly, as he
strode away. "This may be a fine start toward becoming a nervous
wreck. In time I may become as shattered as poor little Alf Drew.
I wonder if I shall ever fall so low as to smoke cigarettes!"
For some minutes Tom plodded on through the darkness. He did
not go toward the claim, but in the opposite direction. He walked
like one who felt the need of physical exhaustion. Presently
coming to a steep trail winding along among boulders he took to
the trail, striding on at barely diminished speed.
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