“Southeast corner,” Sturgis answered briefly, “and the whole outfit will have to go. We’d better take all the bread and cooked stuff you have on hand and they’ll probably want some more by tomorrow night. We’re liable to be down there some time if this wind keeps up.”
“Aye-aye, it’s a bad one,” Mike assented, with a glance at the clear sky, “and no sign of rain.”
“No,” Sturgis answered dolefully; “looks as though it had forgotten how. Some of the boys will come up for that stuff,” he added as he moved away.
The boys were so eager for the “fun”—as they called it—that they lost no time in arranging niceties of dress. Some of them were already scrambling up the hill towards the cookshack.
“This is some wind,” Scott grunted, as he panted up to the cookshack door. “I wonder what they can do with a fire on a night like this? Hello, Mike, when did you get up?”
“I got up with the wind,” Mike answered. “You can’t fight fire without grub, so I knew they would be after me. There’s the stuff on the floor.”
“We may come back sometime, Mike,” Bill said reproachfully, looking at the small mountain of provisions.
“Yes,” Mike said serenely, “some of you will be back here tomorrow afternoon for more grub. I fought forest fires before you were born, and I know how much good victuals they can burn up. The wagon will be leaving you if you stand here talking too long.”
By that time most of the boys had assembled. They took the hint, also the supplies, and hurried to the barn in wild excitement. At the wagon they met Professor Mertz who looked over the group with a grin.
“What have you with you?” he asked.