By eleven o’clock the party sat around a half-dozen blazing campfires, munching at a midnight lunch and speculating on various phases of the work.  Ham was keeping the fellows around one fire laughing over his remarks; Fat was giving expression to his views on camp grub and food in general.  Mr. Dean entertained another group by his stories of army life, while Mr. Allen and a number of the boys’ Cabinet were laying out a plan of work for the morrow.  Shorty Wier advised work on the fireplace first, because, as he pointed out, “the fireplace would be the cabin’s heart.”  It might have fine decorations and new rooms, a well-stocked pantry and new furniture, yet what would all these be to a dead thing?  The fireplace would be the spot around which all the cabin life would congregate—­around which every strange experience would be put into words.  “Yes, I’ll help cut the logs and pack in the lumber and build the furniture, but first of all let me see the rugged stone chimney with a fire quietly burning on a great, wide, friendly hearth to cheer me as I work.”

“You are right, Shorty,” cried Willis.  “I’m with you, for when the old fireplace is built, and the wind is whistling down the canyon, bringing messages of snow, we’ll forget everything outside and just be happy toasting before a great log fire.”

And so the night slipped along.  After a while they began to drowse, until one by one the little groups became quiet and fell asleep.  Only the glowing, flickering pine knots stayed awake to watch the tired sleepers.

The first streak of dawn found the fellows up and eager for work; besides, there was so much to see and learn before the day’s work was begun.  The remains of the midnight lunches were drawn out of their hiding places and eagerly devoured.  The fragrant smell of broiling bacon and the delicious aroma of campfire coffee filled the air.  The pine-scented smoke from the campfire hung low in the valley, and every sound carried plainly in the morning air.  The squirrels were out in great numbers and at their morning play, while every now and then the harsh, rasping cry of a bewildered bluejay would float up the canyon.

The stone crew were strung out in skirmish order across the front of the high ridge and were rolling down every loose stone.  Some came with a merry hop, skip, and jump; others with a shower of gravel and a crash as they struck the bottom.  One great stone leaped into the top of a spruce tree and stuck fast.  Another jumped over the great boulder at the base of the hill and rattled into the open door of the cabin.  Still another dashed in mad frenzy down the slope, through the alders and into the stream, throwing spray in every direction.  So the pile steadily grew.