"That's all right," he muttered, "but the next time I go wandering
about the camp of a night without a light I'll stay at home!"
Either the light flashing in young J.W. Smith's face or Billy's
mutterings awoke that young gentleman, and he sat up in bed, asking
in a very drowsy tone:
"Is it time to get up, Billy? What's the matter?"
"Oh, nothing, I've been a bit restless, that's all, but I feel
better now, so go to sleep, J.W., and get a good night's rest."
At that moment a distant church clock struck twelve, and then a
rooster crowed.
"H'm! guess it is time I got to sleep!" grunted Billy, as he tumbled
into bed, put out his light and was soon fast asleep.
In the morning when he and young Smith arose, the latter said to him
in some surprise:
"Why, Billy, what is the matter, what have you been doing? You
have got the blackest eye I ever saw on a boy."
"Me?" cried Billy. "Are you sure? Isn't it dirt? Where should
I have been to get a black eye?"
"I am sure I don't know, but that's what it is all right. Look at
it yourself, Billy, and see if it is not."
There was a little looking glass in the tent, and Billy now surveyed
himself in this, finding that young Smith was right, and that he did
have one beautiful black eye, the other being only slightly discolored.
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