and the black, awkward shadows of three figures leaped out of the bare
wall and danced there in the ruddy gloom. Bedtime loomed nearer and
nearer as a grave problem, and Ken and Felicia were silent, each
wondering how the floor could be made softest.

"The Japanese sleep on the floor," Ken said, "and they have blocks of
wood for pillows. Our bags are the size, and, I imagine, the
consistency, of blocks of wood. _N'est-ce pas, oui, oui_?"

"I'd rather sleep on a rolled-up something-or-other _out_ of my bag than
on the bag itself, any day--or night," Felicia remarked.

"As you please," Ken said; "but act quickly. Our brother yawns."

"Bedtime, honey," Felicia laughed to Kirk. "Even queerer than
supper-time was."

"A bed by night, a hard-wood floor by day," Ken misquoted murmurously.

"Hard-wood!" Felicia sniffed. "_Hard_ wood!"

The problem now arose: which was most to be desired, an overcoat under
you to soften the floor, or on top of you to keep you warm?

"If he has my overcoat, it'll do both," Ken suggested. "Put his sweater
on, too." "But what'll _you_ do?" Kirk objected.

"Roll up in _your_ overcoat, of course," Ken said.

This also entertained Kirk.