“Huh? What?” Sandy stirred.
Ken poked him. “This is never going to work,” he said. “I was almost asleep myself. Coffee has certainly been overrated as a stimulant.”
“We could take turns,” Sandy murmured. “If I just took a short nap now, you could—”
“No, you don’t,” Ken said. “Get up. Walk around a little.”
“In a room littered with Christmas presents? I’d stumble over something right away and wake up the whole house.”
“Well,” Ken said, “I told you to rig up a booby trap.”
“Come on.” Sandy stood up, a shadowy figure in the faint light reflected into the room from the moonlit snow outside.
“Where are you going?”
“To rig up a booby trap. To fasten a lot of noisy pots and pans up over the door, so that even if we are asleep we’ll hear anybody trying to get in.”
“Those things never work,” Ken said.