"If you'll wait half an hour," said Mr. Black, "we'll have a table to eat it on. Now that I have nails and a saw, we can have real furniture."
Dave and Mr. Black made not only a table but four benches, each long enough to hold four persons. The table had to have a hole in the center to accommodate the tent pole; but Mr. Black managed that. Then he fastened two lamps with reflectors to the pole, Mrs. Crane spread a big sheet of white oil-cloth over the table, and the dining-room was complete.
Jean begged a number of wooden boxes from which the contents had been removed. "We can put our extra clothes in them," said she, "and keep our toilet articles on top. I'm so glad to have a hairbrush that I feel as if I ought to frame it."
"Anything more to build?" asked Mr. Black.
"I'd like a cupboard for my dishes," said Mrs. Crane, who was setting the attractive table. "But you needn't make it to-night. It's a good thing the plates came—our wooden ones wouldn't have stood another washing. And I'm glad to have a dishpan."
"Wasn't the lake big enough?"
"It wasn't in the right place. Where's Dave? He seems to think he belongs to us. Hadn't we better give him some supper?"
"Yes. If you'll put something on a plate I'll carry it to him—he's gone to his wigwam. I want to tell him that we took his venison and potatoes. Here, that's enough—I can't carry three plates."