“I don’t fancy standing over a bed of coals turning a broiler,” whispered Jerry to Ned as the two set about collecting dry wood. “Let Bob do it.”
“Sure, he’s tickled to pieces,” and Ned chuckled.
To do Bob justice, [he made good work of broiling the chickens], as even Professor Snodgrass admitted, and he was a man who cared less about eating than any one the boys knew.
[HE MADE GOOD WORK OF BROILING THE CHICKENS.]
“Well, this is something like!” exclaimed Ned, as he and his chums sat about the glowing fire after supper and talked over the events of the day, speculating on what lay before them.
“You’ve said it!” agreed Jerry, leaning back comfortably against a tree.
The professor was wandering about with a small net and an electric flashlight, trying to gather bugs in the early twilight.
The tent had been put in place—that is, the curtains had been extended out at the rear and the folding cots had been set up. Two bunks were in the automobile proper and it was agreed that Professor Snodgrass should have one of these, the boys preferring to occupy the tent, in which four could sleep.