"Here's the best site for the tent," Prescott called, snatching up a stick and marking the site roughly. "Now, hustle! No; don't use the wooden stakes for the tent ropes. Drive the long iron stakes, and drive them deep!"
Then Prescott ran back with oats and corn for the horse, leaving a generous feed for the animal.
"You'll need plenty to eat, old fellow, for the storm is going to be a long and cold one."
Then Prescott ran back at full speed to his chums who were erecting the tent.
First, the four corner stakes were driven, and the guy-ropes made fast.
"Greg and Dan can drive all the other pins, if they hustle," Dick announced. "Tom, you and Dave get the floor planks down, and rig up the stove—-inside the tent."
"There won't be time to lay the flooring," Reade objected, taking a hurried squint at the now more threatening sky.
"There's got to be time to lay the flooring, unless you all want to sleep in water to-night," Dick insisted. "Harry, just break your back with the loads of wood that you bring in. I'll fill all the buckets with water."
In ten minutes more everything had been carried inside the tent.
Big drops of rain were beginning to patter down.
"We've everything ready just in time to the minute," Tom Reade observed with a satisfied chuckle.