“Worry enough for the day,” said Rob. “And what we ought to be is mighty thankful we got off as well as we have. Anyhow, we’re alive; and, anyhow, we’ll camp here to-night. Now you boys go over to the boat and get the bedrolls, while I pick up some wood and get some fresh grass for the beds. It’ll be dark now before long. We’ll make a fire and cook the tomatoes in the can.”
Following Rob’s advice, each now busied himself at these different tasks. In the course of an hour they had a fire glowing at the centre of the barabbara, which now would otherwise have been quite dark. The smoke did not seriously trouble them after they had learned to keep down low on the floor. Each unrolled his blankets on the deep, sweet-scented grass near-by the fire. Thus, alone and far from home, in a situation stranger than any of them had ever fancied himself about to see, they lay about the fire at midnight of the short Alaskan darkness. Each without instruction took his rifle from its case and put it on the blankets beside him, taking care that it was loaded. Outside they could hear the calls of flying birds; otherwise deep silence reigned. They felt, although they could not see, the presence of the surrounding walls of the great white mountains. Now and then they could hear the faint boom of the sea on the opposite side of the inner wall. It was a wild and new experience for them as at last, one by one, each nodded and dropped back upon his blankets for such sleep as he could find in his first night in camp on the unknown Kadiak coast.
VIII
THE SALMON RUN
Worn out as they were by the adventures of the preceding day, the boys slept long and soundly. When at length Rob awoke he saw that the sun was shining brightly down through the smoke-vent in the roof. He called the others, who rolled over sleepily in their blankets.
“Time for breakfast, John,” said he, laughing.
“Yes, and no breakfast,” grumbled John—“at least, nothing but more crackers and tomatoes, and not very much of that.”