“Seems to me they smell sort of funny,” remarked Ned, as he sat down to the table, and helped himself liberally.
“Oh, that’s only your imagination,” declared Frank. “They’re all right. Eat hearty, fellows, there’s lots of ’em.” There was—enough for a squad.
Fenn poured out a liberal amount of maple syrup on his pile of cakes. He put a generous piece of the top brown one in his mouth. The next minute he uttered a yell, and made rush for the outside of the tent.
“Wow! Oh!” he cried on his way.
“Why, what’s the matter?” asked Frank, as Fenn hastily drank several glasses of water on his return.
“What did you say you flavored those cakes with?” demanded the stout youth, while Bart and Ned paused, with their forks half raised to their mouths.
“Cocoanut,” answered Frank.
“Soap powder, you mean!” exclaimed Fenn, as he made a dash for the box that served as a cupboard, and took out a pasteboard package that had contained cocoanut. “I put soap powder in this to have handy when I washed the dishes,” explained the fleshy youth, “and you flavored the cakes with it, Frank. Wow! Wow!”
“Oh punk!” groaned Bart, as he pushed his plate away from him, “and I was counting on griddle cakes!”
Frank cautiously smelled of the pile of cakes on his plate.