“When’s the grub coming?” the cook asked anxiously.
“There is enough on the stage for a couple of meals,” Merton answered, “and a good two-horse wagon-load will be here a little later.”
The cook looked immensely relieved, “Good, there ain’t nothing makes me nervous like an empty pantry.”
They had just finished eating when the stage hove in sight. It was a good three-quarters of an hour behind them. Of course the three boys on the stage had to have a “handout,” so they all ate some more.
Merton pulled out his list of groceries and consulted with the cook. “Jansen, here’s a list of the stuff we have coming on the wagon. You’d better look it over and see whether we have forgotten anything. If we have we can send for it tonight and have it on the stage tomorrow. There are only eggs, and a little butter to get. I want to arrange with some of the settlers tomorrow about supplying us with those things. Have to have some potatoes, too, and we have a couple of cows coming tomorrow.”
Jansen looked the list over with approval shining in every line of his face. “Fine,” he exclaimed, “we can live high on that, but you’d better order some beans pretty soon and some more ginger. I’m strong on beans and ginger bread. You can’t run a camp without ’em.”
“Come on, fellows,” Price called from the doorway, “let’s go have a look at the bunkhouse. I want to select my suite.”
They all trooped down the hill through the pines and across the tennis court towards the bunkhouse.
“This tennis court looks good to me,” said Morris. “I expect to put in many a good hour here.”
“All right,” Merton answered cheerily. “We’ll appoint you a committee of one to smooth it up, patch up the backstop and mark it out. There’s nothing like having work that interests you.”