“Count me in,” he remarked, wearily.
“Ditto here,” said Allan, also making the high sign.
“Can’t crawl under my blanket any too soon to please me,” Davy added.
“Well, if the rest of you want to turn in, I’m there,” Step Hen declared, yawning.
All eyes were fastened on Bumpus, waiting to hear his decision, so that it might be made unanimous.
“Great Scott! he’s dead asleep, and sittin’ up at that!” exclaimed Giraffe.
Which was a fact; for the fat boy had been so completely tired out with his labor of the morning, when securing the store of honey; as well as from the excitement and nervous shock brought on by the bee stings, that he could not keep his eyes open any longer; and sitting there like a heathen god, as Giraffe called it, he had gone fast asleep.
Of course they had to wake poor Bumpus up, so that he could take his shoes off, and get ready to crawl under his blanket; but he started to perform these little tasks grumblingly, because he had been disturbed.
“Might let a feller snooze where he was,” he muttered, working away, with his eyes still closed. “I was just goin’ to sit down to the dinner table at home, an’ it was Thanksgiving day too. Um! how that big turkey did make me crazy to get at it. And then comes a budge in the ribs, and Giraffe here sayin’ as how I’m takin’ all the room, an’ must roll over. A feller never can be let alone when he wants to, in this——”
Bumpus did not finish what he was saying. Nor was he longer sitting there with his eyes closed, groping at the fastening of his leggings in the endeavor to get the shin protectors off. On the contrary he started half-way to his feet, once more wide-awake.