Part 12 (2/2)
”Coffee went down the hill.”
”The tea also?”
”Yes. The whole business. Neither have we any b.u.t.ter or lard. We shall have to cook the beans in themselves and eat them without seasoning.”
”Cook the bacon with them. That will furnish the salt,” suggested Stacy.
”Large head,” laughed Ned. ”I'll do it. Go fetch me some water.”
Stacy hurried away whistling, and in a few minutes returned with his sombrero filled with clear, cool mountain water.
”Here, here! What do you mean? Think we want to drink out of that old hat?” jeered Ned. ”Get a pail; what ails you?”
”Nothing ails me. It's the pail you want to find fault with--not with me.”
”What do you mean?”
”The pail's down at the bottom of the mountain with Tad,” grinned Stacy.
”That's one on me,” laughed Ned. ”Very well, go wash the hat thoroughly. I suppose we shall have to use it for a water pail. A good scrubbing won't do it any harm, at that.”
”I did wash it,” replied Stacy. ”Think I'd bring you water in it without doing so?”
”All right, put it down,” said Ned, turning away.
”I can't.”
”Why not?”
”If I put the hat down the water will all run out over the top.”
”Then stand there and hold it till we get through supper,” growled Ned, turning to the fire where the bacon was frying in the pan of beans.
Stacy eyed him questioningly for a few seconds, and then with an exclamation poured the water on the ground, jamming the wet, dripping sombrero down over his head.
”You go get your own water. I'm not the cook, anyhow,” he said, thrusting both hands into his trousers pockets and strolling over to the other side of the fire, where he watched the supper preparations out of the corners of his eyes.
”Serve you right if we didn't give you any supper,” commented Ned.
”I'll set the table if you will agree not to find fault with the way I do it,” offered the boy.
”Go ahead. I'll promise.”
Stacy flirted the table cloth in the air, and after walking around several times, succeeded in smoothing it out. He could find only two spoons in their kit, and no knives and forks.
The boy pondered deeply for a moment, then hurried off into the brush, returning shortly, stuffing something in his inside coat pocket.
”Grub pi-i-i-lee!” announced the cook.
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