find the best spot for pitching the tent.

"Whoa!" yelled Prescott, when he had reached the spot that he
judged would do best for camp purposes. "Now, Dave, go over to
the other side of the horse! Help me to get him out of the shafts.
The poor animal must be our first consideration, for he can't
help himself. The rest of you unload all the stuff from the wagon
as fast as you can move."

Slipping the harness from the horse, Dick fastened a halter securely,
then ran the horse down into a little gully where the animal would
be best protected from the force of the wind that would come with
the storm.

Driving a long iron stake into the ground, Dick tethered the animal
securely. Then he ran back to help his chums.

"Here's the best site for the tent," Prescott called, snatching
up a stick and marking the site roughly. "Now, hustle! No; don't
use the wooden stakes for the tent ropes. Drive the long iron
stakes, and drive them deep!"

Then Prescott ran back with oats and corn for the horse, leaving
a generous feed for the animal.

"You'll need plenty to eat, old fellow, for the storm is going
to be a long and cold one."

Then Prescott ran back at full speed to his chums who were erecting
the tent.