“Why not say a feather bed, nice, clean sheets, wash-stand and electric lights?”
“That’s so,” laughed Aleck. “What we can’t get, there’s no use kicking about, eh? Philosophy with a big P, old boy.”
Using their coats as pillows, the boys finally lay down.
It was a long, uncomfortable night, and never had they so welcomed the glimmer of early dawn. When George arose and looked out of the window, he saw in the eastern sky a line of purplish clouds edged underneath with a rosy glow, but all else was gray and cheerless.
“Aleck!” he called. “Wake up! I declare, how can that chap sleep so well?”
The other aroused with a start.
“Hello,” he cried. “Oh, my, but I’m sore and stiff,” and, as he arose, Aleck groaned and grumbled, and rubbed his aching bones.
“So am I,” said George, cheerfully. “But let’s be off. We’ll have breakfast at some farmhouse, and then for the ‘Gray Gull’ again.”
The day promised to be warm. As the sun rose higher and higher and the birds caroled and chirped, and squirrels scrambled frantically to places of safety and peered down with their bright, beady eyes, the boys forgot their pains and aches, in the enjoyment of nature.
A good-hearted farmer gave the two a ride, and, on turning off at a fork, told them where a meal could be had.