He had never been accustomed to "doubling
up," and under the most favourable circumstances the experience would
not have been conducive to sound sleep, but Webster's manner of life was
not such as to render him an altogether desirable bed-fellow. For, while
the majority of farm lads in the neighbourhood made at least semi-weekly
pilgrimages to the "dam" for a swim, Webster felt no necessity laid upon
him for such an expenditure of energy after a hard and sweaty day in the
field. His ideas of hygiene were of the most elementary nature; hence
it was his nightly custom, when released from the toils of the day,
to proceed upstairs to his room and, slipping his braces from his
shoulders, allow his nether garments to drop to the floor and, without
further preparation, roll into bed. Of the effeminacy of a night robe
Webster knew nothing except by somewhat hazy rumour. Once under the
patchwork quilt he was safe for the night, for, heaving himself into the
middle of the bed, he sank into solid and stertorous slumber, from which
all Cameron's prods and kicks failed to arouse him till the grey dawn
once more summoned him to life, whereupon, resuming the aforesaid
nether garments, he was once more simply, but in his opinion quite
sufficiently, equipped for his place among men. Many nights did it
happen that the stertorous melody of Webster's all too odourous slumbers
drove Cameron to find a bed upon the floor.
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