By previous instruction she knew exactly what to do.

She crept quietly back until well ensconced in the niche widened and hollowed for her accommodation.

There, so secluded was she from the outer world of horror and peril, that the coarse voices beneath only reached her in a murmur.

Pulling one end of the tarpaulin over her, she stretched her weary limbs on a litter of twigs and leaves, commended herself and the man she loved to God's keeping, and, wonderful though it may seem, was soon slumbering peacefully.
The statement may sound passing strange to civilized ears, accustomed only to the routine of daily life and not inured to danger and wild surroundings.

But the soldier who has snatched a hasty doze in the trenches, the sailor who has heard a fierce gale buffeting the walls of his frail ark, can appreciate the reason why Iris, weary and surfeited with excitement, would have slept were she certain that the next sunrise would mark her last hour on earth.
Jenks, too, composed himself for a brief rest.