Manchurian Books

Greusel walked back to camp by the other bank of the stream. Although
the early rays of the sun percolated through the upper branches of the
trees above them, the eighteen prone men slept as if they were but
seven. He sprang over the brook, touched the recumbent Ebearhard with
his foot, and so awoke him. This excellent man yawned, and stretched out
his arms above his head.
"You're an early bird, Greusel," he said. "Have you got the worm?"
"Yes, I have," replied the latter. "I found it in the basin of a
waterfall nearly a league from here," and with that he drew aside his
cloak, showing the still wet but empty bag.
For a few moments Ebearhard did not understand. He rose and shook
himself, glancing about him.
"Great Jove!" he cried, "this surely isn't the stream by which we lay
down last night? Do you mean to tell me that thread of water struck
terror into my heart only a few hours ago? I never slept out of doors
before in all my life, and could not have imagined it would produce such
an effect.


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