The old dug-out canoe was swam after, and brought to the shore.
"We can use it, Sid. It was a tottlish thing to get into, till father nailed a keel-board on the bottom of it. We'll bail it out to-morrow. I'm too tired for that sort of fun now."
"So am I. Let's go for supper. Let me make the coffee this time."
"All right. But don't put any more wood on the fire. I'll broil some fish instead of frying them. Clean 'em, and split 'em down along the backbone inside, and they'll lie flat. Spread 'em on a forked stick, so they won't touch the coals and ashes. Season 'em just a little."
Sid decided afterward that there was very little to be said against broiled trout.
They were both of them tired enough to go to bed early, but it was hardly eight o'clock when the rain-drops began to patter on the tent cover.
"We must keep our fire, Sid," said Wade.
He was raking' it from the top of the "hump" as he spoke, and putting down there several solid pieces of dry wood. These he covered with the live coals and burning fragments, and these again with ashes; and then he made over all a sort of conical "wigwam" of his slabs of bark, putting flat stones against them at the bottom, so they would not easily blow away.
"Couldn't do that with too big a fire. Always make a camp fire as small as possible, so my father told me. That'll keep, if it rains ever so hard."
"It's going to do that. Will our fish be safe?"