"Of course you've got the direction down all—er, what you call it, pat, I suppose?"
Frank told him he felt sure he could take a bee-line for camp; and a minute afterwards, there being no further questions, only the regular breathing of a tired lad, he knew that Will had dropped off.
Neither of them managed to secure any great amount of sleep. Their hard resting-place prevented such a thing. After a nap of possibly half an hour Frank would awaken to find one of his legs numb under him, while his muscles fairly ached with the severe strain to which they were quite unaccustomed.
Twice both boys felt so numb with the cold that acting on Frank's advice they crawled out from under the sheltering rock, and for a short time went through with exercises devised to send the blood leaping through their veins.
It was by all odds the longest night either of the lads had ever experienced, in so far as their feelings were concerned. Twice the eager and impatient Will gave a false alarm, under the impression that he had glimpsed the dawn stealing in upon them. The first time Frank showed him by his watch how impossible this was, for it had hardly reached two o'clock.
But all things must come to an end, bad as well as good; and finally Frank himself detected the coming of dawn. It was not by sight that he knew this but through the twittering of birds in neighboring trees, where the poor things had hidden to escape the terrible storm.
"I guess that's meant for a tune of thanksgiving and praise on account of having escaped death in all that wind and rain," Frank told himself as he listened to the faint songs taking form around him.
He did not awaken his chum, because there was no need. They could not start at once, and the boy needed what sleep he could get after such a wretched night.
It was broad day when Will awoke.
"Why! what's this, Frank?" he exclaimed, reproachfully, "how could you let me waste time sleeping when we might have been on our way?"