But he drank the rest, and said: "Thank you very much" in the same
careful voice.
"Oh, I wish he wouldn't be so blooming polite!" Jerry said sharply,
as we were laying Greg back again, and I felt something wet and warm
splash down on my wrist. But I didn't tell Jerry I'd felt it.
CHAPTER X
If I wrote volumes and volumes I couldn't begin to tell how long
that night seemed. It was longer than years and years in prison; it
was as long as a century. I think Jerry slept a little, and perhaps
I did, too, for when I peered out at the cave entrance again there
were two or three bluish, wet stars in the piece of sky I could see,
and the rain-sound had stopped. Jerry was huddled up at my feet with
his dear old head propped uncomfortably against me. He was snoring a
little, and somehow it was the nicest sound I'd ever heard. Greg's
hand was still in mine, and it was not very hot.
Dawn always disappoints me a little. You think it's going to be
perfectly gorgeous, and then it's usually nothing but one cold,
pinkish streak, and the shadows all going the wrong way. But when I
saw a faint wet grayness beginning to creep along the horizon beyond
the Headland, I thought it was the most wonderful thing I'd ever
seen in my life. The gray spread till the whole sky was the color of
zinc, with the sea a little darker, and then one spikey yellow strip
began to show on the sky-line.
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