"But that isn't a bed," contended Alf.

"Right you are there, lad" agreed Tom.

"Now, see here, boss, only one of you two is going to sleep at a
time tonight. 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