"Rock-a-bye, baby, on the tree top!
When the wind blows the cradle will rock."
"I'll bounce a rock off your top story—that's the sort of a rock I'll give you!" threatened Hicks. "What do you think you're doing, nursing a first-form kid?"
The evening promised to be tempestuous, both in the tent and out. The atmospheric pressure has something to do with the brittleness of human temper at such times. Midkiff and Cloudman got into a wrangle that Kingdon had to settle with some abruptness, and Hicks had a chip on his shoulder most of the time. After a while, getting tired of it, Rex called sharply:
"Stop the fussing. I have something serious to say. This tent isn't right. I haven't been satisfied with its position since it was raised. It isn't properly sheltered from the wind, and we're going to have some wind to-night, my husky lads. Come on, let's move it before it gets any darker."
"Move it!"
"It should be at least twenty yards over here to the east," insisted Rex. "No time like the present. Give a hand." He began to pull up stakes.
"You're crazy, Rex," Midkiff said.
"Let the tent alone!" cried Cloudman.
"Ain't to-morrow another day?" queried Peewee shrilly, almost in tears. "I don't want to work any more to-night."
"This tent is going to be moved to-night," asserted the leader of the party.