"How is the camp?" asked Elfreda.
"There isn't any camp," answered Tom.
"Wha—at?" gasped the Overlanders.
"It hit me and went on into the river," groaned Hippy. "Voice of nature," he added in a mutter, but no one laughed.
"Our camp was pitched in the travoy way. The storm loosened the supports of the skidway and let the logs down. Several hundred thousand feet of them rolled over our camp and mashed it flat. A good part of the timber went on into the river. The rest of it is scattered all the way along the travoy."
"What! All our provisions gone?" wailed Hippy.
"No. They were strung up high enough to be out of the way," spoke up Grace.
"You are wrong, Grace," differed Tom. "A log must have ended up and broken the rope. At least the rope is broken and most of our supplies appear to have been carried away. We are now back to first principles. We must either go back for fresh supplies or live as the forest wanderer lives, rustling for our grub as we go along. The first thing to be done is to build a fire."
"Fine! I should like to see you do that with everything soaking wet," laughed Elfreda.
"We shall see," replied Tom. "What we need first of all is light so we may see what we are about."