"More than that," Frank added, as an after-thought, "it would be a crime to tempt Lanky, or any of the others, to come down the face of this rocky mountain, risking all sorts of dangers they would not see in the dark. There must be many a precipice between their new camp and here, where a slip would spell death." That point settled, Frank decided to try to pick out some half-way decent camp site and make the best of a bad bargain. He had much to be grateful for, and, besides that, Frank Allen was never the boy to grumble because things did not chance to run as smoothly as he might have wished. After looking as best he could around the vicinity, he settled on a certain spot as well adapted for his purposes. For one thing, there were several stumps of trees near by; and if only he could knock one of these to flinders by using a big rock in lieu of an ax, he conceived the idea that he would yet have a cheery blaze started. Among other symptoms of eternal preparedness that were characteristic of Frank was his always making sure to carry a waterproof metal matchsafe, filled with "fire-sticks," in his pocket. He had not been immersed in the water a great while, and felt absolutely certain his precious matches would be dry and ready for use. With this desire for comfort, as well as an opportunity for drying his clothes, spurring him on, Frank started work on what seemed to be the most promising of three stumps. There was an abundance of half-dead wood lying around, wet, of course, after such a deluge; but he fancied he would have little difficulty in keeping a fire going, if only he found enough dry stuff to start kindling it. His guess in connection with the heart of that stump proved to be a good one, for he soon had taken out sufficient dry stuff to answer all purposes. So, striking a match, he applied it to the tinder thus collected, and had the satisfaction of seeing a flame start up at once. This he carefully and assiduously cherished and fed until he had collected quite a nice mess of red embers. Then he began to put on some of the other wood, and, as he anticipated it soon burst into a crackling blaze. How good it felt to the wet boy, words could hardly tell. By degrees he managed to dry his clothes by keeping turning around like a teetotum, from one side to another, standing the heat as long as possible. An hour had perhaps gone--Frank could tell only by the movement of the heavenly bodies, since water had got into his wrist watch and stopped the wheels from turning. He found himself turning every little while toward the east, in the hope of seeing signs of dawn, even though good common sense told him that must still be an hour and more away.