But there are delights in sleeping out of doors which those who have never experienced them can scarcely imagine. Even though the couch be "downy" after the manner Paul Jones described, there are compensations. Of course there must be sufficient covering to keep one warm, and a roof of some kind when it rains. With these provided, soft mattresses may well be dispensed with. The company of the stars, the good, fresh air, the music of the breeze in the branches above--these and much more will be bountiful recompense. Every one of the Auto Boys would have endorsed these remarks and with enthusiasm, I am sure. Dave may have wished for a bed in an established camp rather than the one he had on the bare ground. They would all have voted for that. A pillow, even though made of a blanket-end spread over fresh pine twigs or clean, freshly gathered grass, beats an automobile cushion as a head-rest. This no one would deny. And if the established camp means one thing, and the roadside resting place the other, it is very well to choose the former. The degree of comfort is the only question. The delights of out-of-doors exist as certainly one way as another. Thus, for instance, in either situation, are the stars, whether they look down in the tranquillity of a calm, still night, or through broken, storm-tossed clouds, most excellent and interesting company. Now the whole purpose of this digression from the story is to make clear the _reason_ back of the simple statement that the Auto Boys slept soundly. Notwithstanding their strange surroundings and their lack of a permanent camp's greater comforts, they passed the night in unbroken rest. If they awakened at any time it was merely to turn over and fall asleep again. If in the interim they noted, drowsily, the stars still bright, the sky still clear and the promise of fine weather to-morrow, it was merely this and nothing more. The apprehensions that at one time would have come to them that possibly danger lurked in the deeper shadows they rarely if ever experienced now. And let no one suppose it is not something of a trial to desert one's snug resting place upon the ground in the morning, quite as much as it is to leave a soft, warm bed indoors. The temptation to indulge in just one more little snooze of five minutes, ten minutes or whatever time one thinks he might possibly allow himself, is quite the same. Complete wakefulness and ambition return more quickly in the open air and buoyancy of spirit is usually greater--that is all. With the responsibility of breakfast on his shoulders Billy Worth was the first astir. The sun was well up and all the woodland was merry with the songs of birds. Robins piped musically from the old rail fence. Bobolinks, jays, bluebirds, chattering blackbirds and even crows added their voices to the odd combinations of melody. In some not distant pasture a boy was calling loudly as he drove up the cows.