From time to time he peered forth, but the scene was unchanged --
the sleeping regiment, the pacing sentries, the ever-brightening
moon. Then the guard was changed, and the sentries relieved
selected of all places for their beds, the bank beside the
hay-cock. Again one of them went to help himself to some hay for
a couch; and again the comic anger as he discovered it to be a
bed of thorns. How thankful Rolf was for those annoying things
that pricked his face and neck.
He was now hemmed in on every side and, not knowing what to do,
did nothing. For a couple of hours he lay still, then actually
fell asleep. He was awakened by a faint rustling near his head
and peered forth to see a couple of field mice playing about.
The moon was very bright now, and the movements of the mice were
plain; they were feeding on the seeds of plants in the hay-cock,
and from time to time dashed under - the hay. Then they gambolled
farther off and were making merry over a pod of wild peas when a
light form came skimming noiselessly over the field. There was a
flash, a hurried rush, a clutch, a faint squeak, and one of the
mice was borne away in the claws of its feathered foe.
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