Since they had to sleep somewhere, they decided to bivouac on the shore of this water and take their bearings in the morning. As the night was warm, they took off their coats and hanging them to a spreading branch above them they sprawled upon the cushiony ground, abandoning for once their rule of continuous watch, and were soon fast asleep. You do not need any sleeping powders in the Black Forest, for the soft magic of its resiny air will lull you to repose.
When they awakened in the morning they squirmed with complicated gymnastic yawns, and lay gazing in lazy half slumber into the branches above them. Suddenly Archer jumped to his feet.
"Wherre arre ourr coats?" he cried.
Tom sat up, rubbed his eyes and gazed about. There were no coats to be seen.
"What d'you know about that?" said Archer. "Maybe they blew away," he added, looking about.
"There hasn't been any wind," said Tom. "Look at that handkerchief." Near him lay a handkerchief which Archer remembered spreading on the ground beside him the night before.
"Well—I'll—be—jiggered," he exclaimed, looking about again in dismay. "Somebody's been herre," he added conclusively.
Tom fell to scrutinizing the ground for footprints, but there was no sign of any and he too gazed about him in bewilderment.
"They didn't walk away, that's sure," he said, "and they didn't blow away either. There wasn't even a breeze."
A thorough search of the immediate locality confirmed their feeling of certainty that the coats had not blown away. Indeed, they could not have blown far even if there had been any wind, for the closeness of the trees to one another would have prevented this. Tom gazed about, then looked at his companion, utterly dumfounded.