A layer of fragrant pine boughs was spread on the floor of the tent, and both front corners were piled with firewood. The arrangements were completed by dragging the canoes to the top of the bank and removing all that they contained.
"That is what I call snug," said Randy complacently. "I won't mind staying here two or three days. How are we fixed for provisions?"
"Bread will run short to-morrow, but we have plenty of everything else," replied Ned. "No doubt there are farm houses near."
This satisfactory report encouraged the boys to prepare a more than usually sumptuous supper. They washed the dishes by firelight, and just as the last one was dried the rain began to fall—at first in pattering drops, then in a steady, persistent sheet.
A great log was thrown on the fire, and after a short chat in its warm glow the boys drew the tent flaps, and were soon sleeping soundly on the soft pine boughs.
Some time in the night Ned awoke, and feeling thirsty sat up and reached for the pail of water and tin cup which were always kept just outside the tent door.
He took a drink and was in the act of putting the cup down when he heard distinct footsteps outside. They passed the tent and went on toward the creek. Whoever the nocturnal stroller might be he was taking no pains to conceal his presence.
"Say Ned, is that you?" came in a startled whisper from the rear of the tent.
Ned recognized Randy's voice.
"Are you awake?" he exclaimed in surprise. "Don't make any noise. Some one is walking about outside."