"Well, we'll have quail on crackers then," put in Giant.
Stowing the quail away in the bow of the boat, they went on through the gathering darkness. The sun had gone down over the hills in the west, casting long shadows across the little watercourse.
"It will be pretty dark by the time we reach Firefly Lake," said Snap, and he was right. It was cloudy too, and a stiff breeze from the east had begun to blow.
"We'll have to take care how we pitch our tent to-night," was Whopper's comment. "Unless I miss my guess, we'll have rain by to-morrow morning."
"Oh, don't say that!" cried Giant. "I don't want it to rain yet."
"It won't hold off for you or anybody else," returned Snap. "Whopper is right, we must stake our tent well and allow for the water to run off—if rain does come."
When they at last rounded the final turn and swept into Firefly Lake it was so dark they could see little or nothing ahead. But they remembered the locality and had little trouble in reaching a spot where they had camped once before. But the snows of the previous winter had played sad havoc with the fireplace they had built, and they had to
