We don't want to freeze to death." Truth to tell, the exercise had put all of the Grammar School boys in a fine glow.

When, at last, the big lot of wood had been moved and stacked up inside, and they closed the door for good at last, not one of them, despite his hard work in the biting storm, felt really chilled.
"Now, what shall we do ?" demanded Dave, his eyes dancing.
"Do you know what time it is ?" asked Dick.
"Not far from ten o'clock." "Yes; past bed time for all of us." "Do you feel sleepy ?" demanded Dave.
"I don't," chorused four or five.
"Let's sit up as late as we like, for once," proposed Greg Holmes.
"That's part of the fun of camping." "Humph! I want to go to bed," gaped Dutcher.
"Well, there's nothing to stop you, Hen," responded Dick pleasantly.

"If you're really sleepy our chatting won't keep you awake." "What bed shall I take ?" inquired Hen.
"Any one that you like best.

There are eight bunks to only seven fellows, you know." Hen took a look, finally deciding on one of the two that were nearest to the chimney.
"What blankets shall I use ?" he asked.
Dick looked rather blank at that question.
"Use the ones you brought with you," advised Harry Hazelton.
"But I didn't bring any with me," grunted Hen.

"Hurry up, for I'm awful sleepy." "Well, you see, Hen," Dick went on, "we're in something of a fix on the blanket question.