"Sleep," was the prompt reply. "If we lift this seat off—it seems to be removable—I think there is room enough for us both to cuddle down in the bottom of the boat."
"Oh, Sybil!" This from Orissa, rather reproachfully.
"Well, I can't imagine anything more sensible to do," asserted her chum, with a yawn. "These air-rides not only encourage hunger, but sleep. Did you cork that bottle of water? I want another drink."
"I—I think we'd better economize on the water," suggested Orissa, "at least until morning, when we can find out if there's any more in the chest."
"All right. Help me bail out this overflow and then we'll cuddle down."
"Steve said there were two blankets in the chest," said Orissa, presently, when the bottom of the boat was dry. "I'll search for them."
She found the blankets easily, by feeling through the contents of the chest. Offering no further objection to Sybil's plan, she prepared their bed for the night. Neither of these girls had ever "roughed it" to any extent, but in spite of the peril of their situation and the liability of unforeseen dangers overtaking them, they were resourceful enough and courageous enough to face the conditions with a degree of intrepid interest. Afloat on an unknown part of the broad Pacific, with merely a tiny aluminum boat for protection, with final escape from death uncertain and chances of rescue remote, these two carefully nurtured young girls, who had enjoyed loving protection all their lives, were so little influenced by fear that they actually exchanged pleasantries as they spread their blankets and rolled themselves in the coverings for the night.
"The lack of a pillow bothers me most," remarked Sybil. "I think I shall rest my head on one of those cans of baked beans."
"I advise you not to; you might eat them in your sleep," was Orissa's comment.