Perhaps it will do me good to
miss a meal," decided the boy sarcastically. "I've been eating
too much lately, anyhow."
Twilight came; then the shadows of night slowly settled over the
landscape, while the lad lay stretched out on the sweet-smelling
hay, hands supporting his head, gazing up into the starlit sky.
Slowly his heavy eyelids fluttered and closed, and Phil was
asleep. The night was warm and he experienced no discomfort. He
was a strong, healthy boy, so that sleeping out of doors was no
hardship to him. All through the night he slept as soundly as if
he had been in his own bed at home. Nor did he awaken until the
bright sunlight of the morning finally burned his eyelids apart.
Phil started up rubbing his eyes.
At first he wondered where he was. But the sight of his bag
lying a little to one side brought back with a rush the memory of
what had happened to him the evening before.
"Why, it's morning," marveled the lad, blinking in the strong
sunlight. "And I've slept on this pile of hay all night. It's
the first time I ever slept out of doors, and I never slept
better in my life. Guess I'll fix myself up a little.
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