"I'm afraid that's going to be out of the question," Frank told him. "Of course we have matches in plenty, but we couldn't get dry wood after that deluge. You see we had no chance to look around us for a dead tree, and we have no camp hatchet along with us to do any chopping."
"Oh, well, I guess we can stand it, Frank. Morning is bound to get here sooner or later. We've gone through as bad times as this more than once, haven't we?"
"I should say we had," Frank immediately replied, anxious to buoy up the spirits of his companion as much as possible. "And for one thing, that wind isn't going to reach in under here to any extent."
"You're right about that," admitted Will; "it comes from back of the ledge, now that it's shifted into the west. Surely we have lots to be thankful for. But of course we'll feel pretty hungry, because neither of us is used to going without supper, you see."
At that Frank laughed.
"I thought I'd do it for a joke, first of all," he remarked; "you see I'd been reading about the way the Indians make their pemmican by drying venison, and how they carry a handful in their pouches when they have a day's journey afoot to make, munching on it once in a while."
"But what has that to do with us, Frank; we have no pemmican in camp, have we?"
"No, but that piece of dried beef made me think of it, and for fun I carved off a small hunk, intending to spring it on you as a joke if you happened to say you felt hungry, I've got it here in the pocket of my coat."
"Well! of all the luck, that takes the cake!" exclaimed Will. "We can grind our teeth on that once in a while, and make believe we're enjoying the most magnificent camp dinner going, eh, Frank?"
"It's apt to make us thirsty, of course, but just now it happens that pools of water can be found for the looking, so that needn't bother us any. So we're fixed in the line of grub; and there's no danger of starving to death yet awhile."