"Here, let's get our coffee started, so we can move out right away, if things look good to us!" Elmer told them; and it seemed as though there were four times as many cooks as the supply of food warranted, because every one wanted to have a hand in preparing their scanty lunch.
As one of them had said it promised to be pretty much "coffee and point," and of course he was compelled to tell how the poor Irish during famine times were accustomed to hanging a bit of bacon over the table, and as they ate their potatoes they would point the same at it, as though in imagination they might get some of the flavor that way.
"The Irish were long on praties, and short on bacon," Lil Artha commented, "and with us it's a case of plenty of coffee, and a famine in other kinds of grub; but better times are coming soon, boys, when we'll have plenty," and he managed to cast another of his wicked looks in the direction of George, which being seen by that worthy caused him to curl his lips in derision, and return the hint with an expression that seemed to say: "you'll have to wait a long time before you taste me, Lil Artha, and don't you forget that!"
Things got better and better as the cooking progressed; that is to say, overhead the clouds were plainly showing ragged signs, as though they must presently break, and the storm be of the past.
This fact gave the four boys some reason for cheering up. It was a bleak immediate future that stared them in the face, but being young and full of hope they easily found many things to pin their faith on. Youth is apt to be buoyant, and see only the present; George's habit of complaining, and being a pessimist, doubtless sprang from a poor digestion, and could easily be remedied if he went on a plain diet.
"Watch the smoke, how it goes straight up when the wind stops," Elmer told them. "That's a good sign, and every old hunter knows it. Smoke hugs the ground when the air is heavy with moisture, and ascends when it's dry. I'm more certain than ever now that we're seeing the tail-end of our storm."
"The worst is yet to come," croaked George.
"Smells pretty fine to me," said Lil Artha, sniffing the air, which was charged just then with a delightful aroma of coffee.
"I only wish all of you were as lucky as me," Toby broke in with, showing that he could not tear his mind away from contemplating his present. "Think how slick we'd go skimming along over the big drifts on our snow-shoes, and not caring five cents whether school kept or not."
"Mebbe we would, and again mebbe we'd be sorry," George told him. "Things ain't always just what they seem. Lots of times you think you're going to have a nice swell drink, and swich! the glass drops, and is broken into bits."