THE FIRST HUNT
"Hi—hi—hey! It's half-past nine; wake up! Hi—hi!"
Bob Somers uttered these words in a manner which made his companions hastily sit up.
"What's the use of making such an awful racket, Bob? I feel uncommonly sleepy," and the stout boy immediately sank back and closed his eyes.
Little Tom Clifton, however, hastily jumped to his feet.
"Had a dandy night, after all," he said, cheerfully. "Whew, but it's cold," he added, drawing back the canvas flap and peering out. "Those chaps are still asleep."
"Let's stir around and get the fire going, anyway," said Bob. "I'm more than ready for breakfast."
The fire-wood was almost expended, so the two boys got vigorously to work. The sound of their hatchets soon aroused the other occupants of the hut, who had gone to sleep again.
"Hello," said Nat. "I thought it was still last night."
"You mean to-morrow morning," put in Hackett. "My eye, it's nearly ten o'clock. Make that fire howl—will you, Somers? I hate to think of getting up."