The fire was speedily made, and, taking off his clothes, Bluff hugged
close to the blaze while Will busied himself in hanging up the wet
garments, though he had more or less difficulty in tearing his eyes away
from the spot where his camera lay close by.
"Sometimes we get too much fire; then again we want more and more,"
remarked Bluff, as he kept turning around like a roast on the spit; for
as fast as one side felt warm the other grew chilled.
"And I guess that we'd better be beating it back to camp as soon as
your duds are decently dry. I don't like the looks of that sky,"
remarked Will.
"I think you are right. There's certainly a big storm coming. Why, the
air seems dead, just like it is in summer before a gale of wind. And camp
is nearly two miles away from this place. Don't you think I could put
them on now, Will?"
"They feel pretty dry. Do as you please," said the other, not willing to
commit himself, though anxious to be off, for the black looks of the
heavens began to appall him not a little.
"Then here goes!"
Suiting the action to the words Bluff hurriedly dressed. Then he secured
his nice string of fish, and, with his pole over his shoulder, announced
himself ready for the homeward tramp.
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