Then gradually their route became easier, the slope more gradual. They reached a shelf and a little wooded area beside a fast-rushing stream. It was not the best camp site, but by this time none of them was too particular.
Dropping their packs, the Scouts went in search of firewood. Jack found dry kindling material inside a log. Ken, after hard chopping, gathered enough wood to get a little blaze going. By that time, Mr. Livingston had the pup tents up.
Everyone huddled near the fire, waiting for tea water to boil. Some of their misery began to fade.
The rain had practically ceased. The air, however, was damp, and a mist shrouded everything.
Little by little, the Scouts began to dry out and relax. Hot tea revived their spirits. By the time Warner had prepared oatmeal and bacon, they were feeling almost normal again. But no one spoke of plans for the next day.
After the simple meal the Explorers chopped more wood. Then they rolled into their beds and slept soundly.
By morning, the unpleasant experience on Crazy Mountain was only a dim memory. Ken and Jack, even Mr. Livingston, awoke feeling only a little tired and muscle sore.
Once they were astir, most of their aches disappeared. The day was bright and sunny. Warner had risen early to whip the eddies for a few trout and these were cleaned and in the pan, delicately browning for breakfast.
Over the food, the group discussed procedure. A full day had been lost in the futile search for the pass. There was no assurance that, if they went on, it ever would be found before their skimpy food supply became exhausted.
“I’ve been looking over the map again this morning,” Warner said, spreading it on the rocks. “There’s another way up, and it may lead us through—that is, if you’re game to tackle it. I’m leaving the decision to you fellows.”