With the canvas covers of the
aeroplanes Roy managed to fix up quite a comfortable bed on a pile
of hay left in a sort of loft over the abandoned stable.
As for Jimsy, he made himself as comfortable as possible in the chassis
of the _Golden Butterfly_, the seats of which were padded as luxuriously
as those of a touring car. He had a book dealing with aeronautic
subjects with him, and, drawing the lantern close to the aeroplane,
he buried himself in the volume.
In the meantime Roy had rolled himself up in his canvas coverings and
was sound asleep. For a long time Jimsy read on. At first frequent
footsteps passed the door of the stable, but as it grew later these
ceased. Folks went to bed early in Meadville. Long before midnight
there was not a sound on the streets.
Jimsy read doggedly on. But he was painfully conscious of an almost
irresistible desire to lie back and doze off, if only for a few seconds.
The exciting events of the day had tired him out, nor was the book he
was reading one calculated to keep his wits stirring.
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