The arching stone over his head, and the dwarfed evergreens pushing themselves up where the least bit of soil was to be found, shut out the view before them, but it was as truly an inn to him at that moment as any he had ever entered.

He closed his eyes in content and every nerve and muscle relaxed.
"Since you've shut down your lids, lad, keep 'em down," said the hunter.

"Sleep will do you more good now than anything else." But Robert quickly opened his eyes again.
"No," he said, "I think I'll eat first." Willet laughed.
"I might have known that you would remember your appetite," he said.
"But it's not a bad idea.

We'll all have a late supper." They had venison and cold hominy from their knapsacks, and they ate with sharp appetites.
Then Robert let his lids fall again and in a few minutes was off to slumberland.
"Now you follow him, Tayoga," said Willet, "and I'll watch." "But remember to awake me for my turn," said the Onondaga.
"You can rely upon me," said the hunter.
The disciplined mind of Tayoga knew how to compel sleep, and on this occasion it was needful for him to exert his will.

In an incredibly brief time he was pursuing Robert through the gates of sleep to the blessed land of slumber that lay beyond, and the hunter was left alone on watch.
Willet, despite his long life in the woods, was a man of cultivation and refinement.