Perk was looking wonderfully pleased, and Jack could give a good guess just why this should be so. It had been arranged that on this fateful evening, when their mission was on the eve of taking a fresh spurt, Perk was to be permitted to actually cook a meal—such as the camp larder allowed.
He had asked his comrade concerning the possibility of the odors betraying their hiding place; and Jack told him there was not one chance in a hundred of such a thing coming about.
“Already you’ve been smoking in our cave, and the odor of your tobacco must have floated out to the open air; but from what we’ve learned no one ever comes up this way—those lazy panhandlers down there wouldn’t bother themselves to scout around. So its perfectly safe to fry your bacon, and even make coffee—if you’ve got any sort of a vessel to contain the same.”
“Jest leave all that to little Perk, Senor Jack,” the other told him, in half suppressed excitement; “I’m the lad as kin sling the hash to beat the band. My innards air yellin’ fur a gen-u-ine hot meal, ’cause cold stuff doant seem to touch the spot. Git ready to give yeour tummy a treat fur a change.”
They were back in the cavern when this little discussion took place; and no sooner had a decision been reached than Perk commenced his preparations; Jack meantime busying himself with pencil and paper, figuring out certain little problems connected with their programme for the night.
Later on Jack began to lift his head, and turn anxious glances toward his busy comrade, meanwhile sniffing the atmosphere, and faintly smiling—when a healthy young man, accustomed to feeding on first-class chow, day in and day out, is forced by reason of unusual circumstances to partaking—in limited quantities at that—of cold meals, with an extremely minute bill of fare in the bargain, naturally when once again catching the appetizing whiff of frying rashers of prime bacon, also sliced potatoes; and above all the thrilling odor of boiling Java coffee, how could he help displaying his joy at the prospect of such a coming treat?
The realization was quite as good as the anticipation, only it must be confessed that when they had dutifully scraped the pan absolutely clean, and squeezed out the last drop of the ambrosia Perk had brewed in some sort of a hobo empty quart fruit-can, that chanced to be aboard their ship, neither of them felt filled to capacity.
“Never mind,” Jack remarked, observing the rueful expression on his chum’s face, and watching him rubbing his stomach, as if to show how far from being distended it was; “the sample was extra fine. Just hold your horses until we get back to town, and then the sky is the limit. Get that, pard?”
“Thanks, awfully, Jack, ole hoss; I’m agoin’ to live on promises fur a short spell; but oh! baby, aint the fur bound to fly when I get workin’ my jaws reg’lar onct again?”
After that they lay around and waited, for a certain length of time must elapse before it would be safe to start operations.