Both boys were soon sleepy, for the heat of the fire affected their eyes. So Jerry fixed things to keep the blaze going while they napped, rolling a log over so that it offered a good chance for the fire to feed. In this way they passed the balance of the night, nor would either of them soon forget the experience, though from different reasons. In the morning they managed to cook some of the fresh venison Jerry carried, and for which the other seemed very grateful. Then they figured out their position, which was not hard to do, since the sky was clear and the sun well up. Half an hour later Andy recognized certain landmarks that told him he could make a turn and reach his camp by the lake shore. "Good-by, Jerry. I'm going to skip out here. And I ain't forgettin' this either," he said, thrusting out a hand, while a queer grin crept over his face. Jerry hurried on, anxious to relieve the suspense of his chums. As he came in sight of the camp he paused and stared, as well he might, for it seemed to be occupied by a stranger, and he a man with the wild aspect of a madman. CHAPTER XVII AFTER THE STORM "Whoop! All hands on deck to pump ship!" "My camera! Oh! where did I put it?" "Grab up the bedding and hustle in under the other tent, boys!" This last from steady, clear-headed Frank, who seemed to know just what should be done in an emergency. It started Bluff and Uncle Toby working strenuously to keep blankets from getting very wet. But Will could not think of lending a hand until he had first of all lugged his beloved camera under shelter. It was indeed fortunate that both tents had not gone by the board at the same time, or the camp must have been plunged into the deepest distress. Led by Frank, they managed to hustle their belongings under the second cover, where the driving rain could not reach them. By the time all had been done the boys were dripping, and it took them some twenty minutes to get warm again, snuggled in their blankets. "Oh! what a night!" wailed Will a dozen times. "Please let up on that, or give us a change in tune. It's bad enough to have to stand the storm without listening to a phonograph," grunted Bluff. The hours crept along. Now and then they dozed, but sound slumber did not come to a single one of the group. Uncle Toby was quite content to cower as close to Frank as possible, satisfied that the other was able to protect him. He seemed to exhibit the blind confidence of a dog in an emergency calling for energy; to him Frank was a type of manliness hard to match. "Will the morning ever come?" groaned Will, as he shifted his cramped position for the tenth time at least.