"I don't know. Fell asleep maybe, but there's no use worrying," Tom said philosophically. He was clanging things back into the tin box. "There's plenty left over for a snack later on if we need it."
He yawned a loud, satisfied yawn.
"Maybe we should sleep for a while."
"All right," Julian said, thinking about thirstiness; and they each stretched out on a blanket—it was much too warm for covers—and were quiet for nearly two minutes.
"Ow," Tom complained. "I never knew my bones had so many corners."
"You think you have troubles. You've got good natural padding, and I haven't. This is the hardest floor I ever felt."
"Well, we'll just have to get used to it. Soldiers do. Marines do."
"Rugs do," added Julian. "I don't mind the hardness of the floor so much, but I'm getting so thirsty I may have to drink the A.P. Decoction!"
Tom laughed. "Good thing you brought it anyway; here come the mosquitoes."
It was true. Somewhere just above their heads there was a sound like the wailing of the tiniest violin imaginable. Then another.