I'm tired---I ache. Why can't I sleep on the other
cot in this tent?"
"Come here," ordered Tom.
Alf wonderingly advanced.
Whiff! whiff! moved the young engineer's nostrils.
"Just as I thought," sighed Reade. "You've been smoking cigarettes
without any let-up ever since supper."
"Well, I have ter," argued Drew.
"And now you smell as fragrant as a gas-house, Alf. Mr. Hazelton
is rather particular about the little matter of cleanliness.
If you were to sleep on his cot the smell of cigarettes would
be so strong that I don't believe Mr. Hazelton could stay on his
cot when it came his time to turn in."
"But say! If you knew how dead, dog-tired I am!" moaned Alf.
"Oh, let him sleep on my cot," interposed Harry, good-heartedly.
"If I can't stand the cot when I come to use it, then it won't
be the first night that I've slept on hard ground and rested well."
"All right, Alf, climb in," nodded Tom. "But see here. Cigarettes
make you as nervous as a lunatic. If you have any bad dreams
tonight, and begin yelling, then I'll rise and throw you outdoors.
Pages:
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77