“Bob, crawl out of there.” [Illustration] “Fitz! Fitz!” the boy cried, disentangling himself and struggling to his feet. “Fits!” laughed a big manly voice. “Yes, I guess you’ve got ’em, Bob; and you’ve rolled out of bed in one, and dragged the covers with you.” Bob blinked and rubbed his sleepy eyes. There stood his father in the doorway, grinning broadly; “Hustle into your clothes, laddie,” he said; “breakfast’s ready.” [Illustration: THE END.]