The sky was still light when they crawled into their bedrolls. Sandy and his uncle shared one tent, and Quiz and Jerry the other.
Jerry sighed contentedly as he lay back. “I must be tired. This old ground feels like a feather mattress to my weary bones.”
“Don’t forget,” Sandy called from the other tent, “you’re lying on a bed of duff and pine needles.”
“You guys are crazy,” Quiz grumbled. “It’s okay if you lie flat, I guess. But I can only sleep on my side. What are you supposed to do with your hips?”
“That’s what you get for being so fat,” Jerry chortled gleefully.
“Try scooping out a hole for your hip to fit into,” Russ suggested.
Quiz unzipped his sleeping bag and sat up. Working with his fingers, he shaped a small hollow in the soft duff, then settled down again. “Ahhh, that’s better,” he said with satisfaction.
“You see,” Jerry gloated, “there are some things you can’t learn in books.”
“Oh, shut up!” Quiz mumbled.
Before Sandy dropped off to sleep, he heard Prince return to camp. The big Doberman took a long drink from the creek and then settled down in front of the tent at Russell Steele’s feet. His presence there gave Sandy a feeling of warm comfort.