The Golden Spider by Francis Lynde

Pretty stiff from their forced march and the chill of the night spent on the cold mountain top without fire, the three castaways――for so they were now calling themselves――were up with the dawn. Now that they had daylight to show them their surroundings, they saw that by going a little farther along the mountain to the left they might have camped in timber and had wood for a fire.

"More spilt milk," Dick lamented when he saw how they had missed what little comfort they might have had. "I guess we are more or less tenderfoots yet. " And then he went over to the clump of dwarfed trees and gathered some wood for the coffee fire, coffee being the only thing they had to cook.