“One Stevens pistol and two boxes of cartridges,” Ormand added.
They all thought silently for about five minutes, but could think of nothing else.
“Well,” Ormand said, rolling leisurely off the bed, “you buy the stuff, Greenleaf, and bring it here, this is the nearest place to the carline. We’ll be here at six tomorrow morning, divide up the packs and take the car to the Indian Mounds. Good night.”
The two seniors gone, Greenleaf devoted a few minutes to revising the list and picking out the things for immediate purchase. At last, after many alterations, it seemed to suit him. With one last critical glance at it he bounded out of his chair and started for the door.
“Come on, Scotty, bring your pack sack and we’ll get this grub. Then we’ll go to bed and get a good sleep. If you have never been in camp you probably will not sleep much the first night, and better get all that’s coming to you now.”
With the aid of the list the purchases were soon made at the corner grocery and the “grub” piled in one corner of the room. It looked to Scott like a rather small supply for four men for four days, but he felt that the others knew what they were about, and was satisfied to trust to their judgment. All the other duffel was collected in a heap ready for division in the morning. Then they went to bed.
By a quarter of six they were dressed for the hike, and the other fellows had arrived. The packs were soon satisfactorily arranged and they hurried to the carline. It was a long ride to the Indian Mounds but they reached there by seven o’clock, slipped on their packs and hurried away down the river bank in search of a suitable place to get breakfast. They soon located a place in a small opening where an eight-inch stub had been broken in half by its fall.
Morgan made the fire in record time. With Scott’s help he laid the two pieces of the tree-trunk side by side with about three inches between them. That was the self-burning fireplace. A handful of dried leaves, a bunch of small twigs, a match, and the fire was ready for the kettle. Scott thought it only the beginning of a fire and was busying himself collecting a wagon-load of dried limbs for fuel when Greenleaf came up with the kettle full of water and set it over the diminutive blaze.
“How long do you think it will take to boil there?” Scott asked sarcastically.
“About five minutes,” Greenleaf answered cheerfully, missing the sarcasm.