The two fires had dried out the bungalow thoroughly, and, utterly worn out with their day’s exertions, the Rover boys and their chums slept soundly until nearly eight o’clock the next morning. When they arose they found that the storm had cleared away and that the sun was shining as brightly as ever.
“This is something like!” declared Fred, as he went out on the porch of the bungalow and stretched himself. “My, what a pretty view!”
It was all of that, and the other boys came out to gaze upon the scene before they finished their toilets. They could look up and down the long lake for miles. In front of them were the pretty little islands known as the Cat and Kittens, all covered thickly with brushwood.
“If it wasn’t for the islands we could look right over to the Willoughby camp,” said Gif. “It’s right in that direction,” and he pointed with his hand.
“Looks to me as if we were going to have rival camps,” was Jack’s comment.
“I hope those Longley fellows keep their distance,” came from Fred. “We didn’t come up here to have our outing spoiled by Flanders, Sands and that bunch.”
There was very little to eat for breakfast, and this being so, the lads resolved to go back along the path through the woods without delay and bring in the remainder of their luggage and other stuff left behind.
“You can come with us, Jeff,” said Gif. “I want you to help us with the boxes of provisions.”
“Don’t you want me to stay at the bungalow and clean up a little?” asked the colored man, who had no desire for anything in the way of strenuous work.