It would not be long before once again the cold of the tent drove him to seek refuge in my bed.

I hardly ever had a night's complete rest.

Once I rolled over on him, and, as he was a very fiery tempered little dog, he got very displeased and began to snap and bark in a most unpleasant manner.

As the sleeping bag was tightly laced it was difficult to extract him.

Philo waged a kind of submarine warfare there until grasping his snout, I pulled him out and refused all his further appeals for readmission.
My little tent gave me great comfort and a sense of independence.