"Get up, Brick! Get up! Brick is a good name for you, my hard-baked friend. Get up! This tent will be in the next county in five minutes. Get up! You would sleep on, and come to no harm if we were carried twenty miles, but being slightly crippled, I'd be sure to struggle and get hurt. Get up!"
The wind was blowing furiously and the tent almost capsized. Glen was out of bed in a flash, wide awake. He knew where to get a heavy hammer and made short work of driving home the stakes and securing the flapping canvas.
"Not very clever of you to plant your tent stakes so the first strong wind would blow them out of the ground," said Spencer.
"The wind didn't blow them out, and the strain of the ropes didn't pull them out. I fixed those stakes just before I went to bed. Who do you suppose yanked them up?"
"I never was good at riddles," replied Spencer. "Maybe it was Mr. Newton."
"Yes," said Glen, "or Apple! Just like 'em. Try another guess."
"No, I'm afraid I would say something that might excite you. Go to sleep. Every one has troubles, but it's no good weeping about 'em. 'Laugh and the world laughs with you.'"
"I haven't any troubles and I can afford to laugh," said Glen. "The day's beginning to break but I think I'll take a Sunday morning snooze."
And over in the county into which Will Spencer had predicted they would be blown a man was just awaking from his snooze. He had slept all night in an automobile, as he frequently did. The automobile was no ordinary car. It had a driver's seat in front and a closed car behind. Bright colored letters announced to the world that J. Jervice supplied the public with a full line of novelties, including rugs, curtains, rare laces and Jervice's Live Stock Condition Powders.
Mr. J. Jervice yawned and stretched, and rubbed his eyes.