Well, it rained, just as the weather sharp had so wisely predicted. Steve chanced to be the first to hear the drops begin to patter down on the canvas covering that sheltered them from all inclemencies of the weather. He gave a snort as he sat bolt upright and exclaimed: "There, didn't I tell you so, fellows; listen to her come down, will you?" "What's all this row about?" grumbled the sleepy Toby, hardly stirring. "Why, it's raining, don't you hear?" snorted Steve, as though that might be a wonderful fact. "Let her rain pitchforks for all I care," grunted Toby. "Lie down and go to sleep again, can't you, Steve? What do we care, when this tent is guaranteed waterproof? Besides, haven't we taken all precautions? Only old Moses will get wet, and it isn't going to hurt him any. So please go to sleep again, and leave me alone. I was having the most wonderful dream, and beating the whole crowd at skating for a wonderful prize of a pair of silver-plated skates, when you had to go and spoil the whole show. Now I'll never get those skates, that's sure." All through the balance of that night the rain continued to come steadily down. At least it was no great storm, with accompanying wind and the crashing of thunder. When morning came it was a dismal outlook that they saw, peeping from the tent. The rain was still falling, and a leaden gray sky overhead gave promise of a hopelessly long and wet day. Steve had fetched along a rubber coat and boots, so that one of them could go and come on errands, without getting soaked. Moses must be fed, to begin with, and there would be numerous trips to make between tent and supply wagon. The fire was started in the little camp stove used by the photographer when he took his annual pilgrimage through the country, in search of lovely views to add to a collection he was making that would be an art treasure when he had completed it. "Say, that works mighty fine, let me tell you!" declared Toby, when the grateful heat from the stove began to render the interior of the big tent very comfortable. "We'll have no trouble keeping as snug as three bugs in a rug, with that sheet-iron contraption to help out." "And," added Steve, "the oven is getting hot already. I really believe I can do that baking today, boys; so make up your minds to eat some of the jolliest biscuits you ever put between your teeth. I made sure to carry all the ingredients along, barring none." "I notice that an arrangement comes with the stove so that you can burn kerosene if wood isn't handy," remarked Jack; "which makes it all the more valuable as a camp auxiliary. Lots of times wood is out of the question, but you can get plenty of oil." At that Steve began to chuckle. "What strikes you as being so funny, Steve?" demanded Toby, who was amusing himself by starting breakfast on the little stove, as though not meaning to let Steve do _all_ the cooking while on their camping trip.