“Sure I am,” Joe laughed. “I’m going to climb to the top of the Great Divide to-morrow!”
The night came on as they were getting ready to bunk, and with it came a sudden coolness.
“I guess we’re going to be glad of these blankets, after all,” Tom said, “and you won’t be sorry your mother put in that puff.”
“You bet I won’t,” Joe answered, climbing into his cot, and pulling the puff up about him.
Tom took a last look at the fire, at the still woods, at the lake glimmering down through the trees, picked up his sweater, which he had dropped on the ground, and hung it idly over a log by the fire, pulled the tent flap together, blew out the candle in the camp lantern, and also crawled in.
“Well, Joe,” he said, “we’ve begun our life five thousand feet up, at the feet of the glaciers.”
Joe’s answer was a snore.
CHAPTER VII—Joe Gets Acquainted with Porcupines, the Diamond Hitch, and Switchback Trails
Some hours later the boys were awakened by a tremendous clatter just outside the tent. They both sprang up and rushed out. It was pitch dark, the last ember of the fire had died, and they could see nothing. But they could hear something scampering away in the underbrush.
“Is it a bear?” Joe whispered. “Gee, I wish they’d let you have a gun in the Park!”