"That was very thoughtful of you, dear. I quite forgot about the fire," admitted the Guide.
"We won't need it again, so it doesn't matter much," came from Jane.
"Supposing it begins to pour rain again before night—shall we run to the house for the night?" said Elena, who had been listening to Nita's conversation with the Guide.
"It won't rain any more, never fear!" called Zan.
Wickee was not fond of walking in wet leaves, or past bushes that showered water all over him as he passed, so he dropped to the rear of the line and walked carefully in the narrow pathway that had been well-worn during the past month.
At camp, everything looked dismal and uninviting. The rain had beaten through into the cupboard and all the groceries were sodden. It had trickled on top of the ice-chest and by following a groove in the lid, managed to force an entry inside. The consequence was that a pool of rain-water stood two inches deep about the ice, butter, pudding for supper, and other items that were floating about when the lid was raised.
"I hope to goodness, the cots are dry! And the crex mats in the tents!" complained Nita.
"Humph! Feel of the mats!" laughed Zan, jumping up and down in her tent to hear the water squash underneath the piece of matting.
"My bed's all dry!" shouted Jane joyously.