I'm tired---I ache.

Why can't I sleep on the other cot in this tent ?" "Come here," ordered Tom.
Alf wonderingly advanced.
Whiff! whiff! moved the young engineer's nostrils.
"Just as I thought," sighed Reade.

"You've been smoking cigarettes without any let-up ever since supper." "Well, I have ter," argued Drew.
"And now you smell as fragrant as a gas-house, Alf.

Mr.Hazelton is rather particular about the little matter of cleanliness.
If you were to sleep on his cot the smell of cigarettes would be so strong that I don't believe Mr.Hazelton could stay on his cot when it came his time to turn in." "But say! If you knew how dead, dog-tired I am!" moaned Alf.
"Oh, let him sleep on my cot," interposed Harry, good-heartedly.
"If I can't stand the cot when I come to use it, then it won't be the first night that I've slept on hard ground and rested well." "All right, Alf, climb in," nodded Tom.

"But see here.