"Just the same," concluded the Major, "I'll have my bed on top the
limousine."

He did, Wampus placing blankets and a pillow for him without a word of
protest. The Major climbed over Uncle John and mounted to the roof of
the car, which sloped to either side but was broad and long enough
to accommodate more than one sleeper. Being an old campaigner and a
shrewd tactician, Major Doyle made two blankets into rolls, which he
placed on either side of him, to "anchor" his body in position. Then
he settled himself to rest beneath the brilliant stars while the
coyotes maintained their dismal howling. But a tired man soon becomes
insensible to even such annoyances.

The girls, having entered the limousine from the door opposite the
tent, were all unaware of the rattlesnake episode and supposed the
shot had been directed against the coyotes. They heard the Major
climbing upon the roof, but did not demand any explanation, being deep
in those bedtime confidences so dear to all girls. Even they came
to disregard the persistent howls of the coyotes, and in time fell
asleep.

Wampus did not seem afraid of snakes. The little chauffeur went to bed
in the tent and slept soundly upon his cot until daybreak, when the
coyotes withdrew and the Canadian got up to make the coffee.

The Major peered over the edge of the roof to watch him. He had a
sleepy look about his eyes, as if he had not rested well. Uncle John
was snoring with gentle regularity and the girls were still asleep.

"Wampus," said the Major, "do you know the proper definition of a