“Now hustle and get a lot of sticks ’bout ten feet long,” he commanded.
These were not so easily obtained, but by dint of much feeling around and effort on the part of the two boys enough sticks and young saplings were secured to answer Billy’s purpose. These were arranged with butts on the ground and other ends supported on the cross-bar between the two trees, all slanting evenly in the same direction.
“Now heap up all the brush and leaves you can scrape up,” commanded the young architect, bringing up an armful of spruce boughs he had obtained from a nearby windfall. Thatched in this way the rude lean-to was soon completed. It was a rough but effective shelter, and with a few balsam boughs spread on the ground beneath it Billy felt that they could spend the night with a reasonable degree of comfort.
“Now if we only had a fire this wouldn’t be half bad,” he muttered. “Got any matches, Spud?”
“What do you take me for? You know the rules,” growled Spud.
Billy knew. Matches were absolutely tabooed in Woodcraft Camp, that there might be no chance of a forest fire from the carelessness of just such reckless youngsters as Billy.
“Wish I’d brought my fire stick,” grumbled Billy.
“I’ve got mine,” said Spud.
“What! You blink-eyed owl! Why didn’t you say so before?” whooped Billy. “Trot it out!”
The cautious Spud demurred. “You know the rules, Billy, and that building a fire without permission means expulsion,” he protested.