"Can't we have a fire?" asked Will, who was shivering under his blanket.
"Just thinking so myself. It's getting sharp, now that the wind has shifted into the northwest. Suppose we make a try," answered Frank, readily.
It was just in anticipation of such an emergency that he had hidden some of the dry wood away where the rain could not reach it. Frank's previous experience in woodcraft had taught him many valuable things.
Securing some of this, he quickly had a little blaze. The others fed this in a cautious manner, so as not to smother it by too much fuel. As a result the fire was in a short time burning freely, and diffusing a genial warmth around that proved very acceptable to the chilled campers.
Even Will thawed out under its influence and ceased to grumble.
"It's all right, too, fellows; not a drop got in tinder these waterproofs," he declared, as he eagerly examined his precious possession.
So the morning found them.
The first thing they did was to rescue the runaway canvas. It was found to be intact, the pins only having given under the strain. So shortly afterwards the second tent again arose, and things began to look shipshape around the camp.
"Seems like an Irish wash-day," remarked
