You fellows are going to sit up and you can wait for the coats to dry.

Let me have a set of blankets, and some other fellow take the coats when they're dry." "Well, of all the nerve!" gasped Tom Reade.
"Hen," spoke Dave sternly, "if you can't wait for the coats to dry, then you can sit up in a chair by the fire and throw on another log or two every time you wake up with a chill!" Finding that he couldn't have his own selfish way, Hen, with much grumbling, arranged the coats on two chairs not far from the fire.

When he considered the coats dry enough he crawled into his chosen bunk, grumbling at the coarse tick filled only with dried leaves, and was covered by Dick and Greg.

Then the other fellows, after replenishing the fire, sat down to spin stories.
"You tell the first yarn, Dick," proposed Tom.
"Too bad," replied Dick, with a shake of the head.

"All I can think of is what the man on the clubhouse steps said." "And what was that ?" demanded Tom Reade, leaning forward.
"I can't tell you, just yet," replied Prescott.
"Go on! Yes, you can." "No; it's a secret." "What did the man on the clubhouse steps say ?" insisted Dan, jumping up, seizing the crowbar and poising it over Dick's head.
"Put down the curling iron, Danny," laughed Prescott.