On the night when the various manuscripts were in the doctor's
study in the little cottage he occupied in the camp, Billy Manners
was a bit restless, not from his literary efforts, but from having
eaten something which greatly disagreed with him.
He occupied a tent with young Smith, and at a late hour awoke for
the third or fourth time, and suddenly heard some one say in a
whisper:
"It's all right, I've got it!"
Billy thought the voice was Herring's, but was not certain in his
sleepy condition, and with pains gripping his bowels.
"Can you fix it?" somebody asked, and Billy thought this might be
either Holt or Merritt, not being sure which it was, for the same
reason that made him uncertain of the other.
"Fix it?" the first speaker retorted with a low chuckle, "of course
I can fix it, and fix his winning the prize, too."
"There's some mischief going on," thought the young joker. "I
wonder what it is?"
The voices he had heard had come from the next tent, but whether
it was the next on the right or the left he could not tell, not
knowing whether he may have turned in his sleep or not, having a
habit of finding himself in all sorts of queer positions when he awoke.
While he was thinking the matter over, and trying to locate the tent
from which the voices proceeded he fell asleep, his pain having left
him for a time.
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