"Now, we'd better get the camp in shape for night," said Frank. "We've got to stay here until morning, no matter what happens. We can't move Fenn until he's better."
"Maybe he'll not get better," remarked Ned, rather gloomily.
"Oh, cut out such ideas," advised Frank. "He'll be all right. Probably his stomach is upset. Now hustle around and get a fire going. I want some hot coffee, and so do you. Then we'll all feel better, after a bit of grub."
Once Bart and Ned had something definite to do they did not worry so much about Fenn. Frank took a look at him, now and then, in the midst of the work of making the camp.
"He's asleep," he announced after one inspection. "I think his fever's going down some."
"That's good," commented Bart, his face losing some of its worried look.
The boys ate a hasty supper and then made a more comfortable bed for Fenn. The tent was big enough for all four to stretch out under it, but the three chums decided they would take turns sitting up, in order to administer to the sick lad.
Frank gave him some more medicine during the night, and, by twelve o'clock, Fenn was somewhat better, though he still had a fever.
It seemed that morning would never come, but, at length, there shone through the forest a pale, gray light, that turned to one of rosy hue, and then the golden sunbeams streamed through the trees.
"Thank goodness the night's gone," exclaimed Ned, who had the last watch. "It seems as if we'd been here a week, instead of a few hours."
"How is he?" asked Bart of Frank, who had assumed the rôle of doctor.
"No worse, at any rate," he said, as he felt of his chum's head.
"Do you think we ought to get a physician?"
"I think we'll see how he is to-day," answered Frank. "If he doesn't get any worse I believe it will work off. I'll give him some more medicine."
There must have been some virtue in the pills, for, by noon, Fenn's skin was much cooler, and he had began to perspire, a sure sign that the fever was broken. His mind, too, was clear.
"What's the matter? What happened?" he asked. "Was I sick?"
"I guess it was a little touch of sun-stroke," replied Frank with a laugh. "How do you feel?"
"Pretty good, only weak. I'm hungry and thirsty."
"That's a good sign. I guess we can fix you up."