After that he turned out the light, took down the robe and wrapped himself in it, and laid himself down on the rear seat to wait for ten-thirty.
He dozed, and the next he knew there was a fumbling at the door in front, and the muttering of a voice.

Bud slid noiselessly out of the car and under it, head to the rear where he could crawl out quickly.

The voice sounded like a man, and presently the door opened and Bud was sure of it.

He caught a querulous sentence or two.
"Door left unlocked--the ignorant hound--Good thing I don't trust him too far--" Some one came fumbling in and switched on the light.
"Careless hound--told him to be careful--never even put the robe on the rail where it belongs--and then they howl about the way they're treated! Want more wages--don't earn what they do get--" Bud, twisting his head, saw a pair of slippered feet beside the running board.

The owner of the slippers was folding the robe and laying it over the rail, and grumbling to himself all the while.