“And Dick is going to make pie,” said Bert. “Make four, old man, so there’ll be one apiece.”
“All right,” agreed the young cook good naturedly. “I won’t guarantee results, but I’ll do my best.”
Tom started out in the boat with Bert to do some fishing, while Jack wandered off in the woods with his shotgun. Dick did up the dishes and then began rummaging around in the supplies. Soon he was whistling away and, as Tom and Bert could see, from where they were in the boat, he was kept quite busy over something.
“Well, did you get ’em made?” asked Tom, when they had all assembled for dinner. “How about the pies, Dick?”
“There they are,” was the retort, and Dick pointed to the pastry.
“Hum! They smell good!” exclaimed Jack, as he whiffed an odor from the pies.
“They look good,” commented Tom.
“Let’s see if they taste good,” suggested Bert.
The pies were served as dessert, and at the first mouthful Tom let out a howl.
“For the love of tripe!” he cried. “What did you put in these pies, Dick?”