“Go ahead, Ethan. Have it now. We may want it every hour in the day, if the feeling I have is anything that lasts very long.”
Thus bidden, Ethan and Tom at once prepared dinner. While the younger man made a fire, Ethan prepared the potatoes, whittling the skins as if he had been carving an oar. He also split three black bass which Tom had caught in the morning, and made them ready for broiling. In addition to these he had fresh vegetables, a coffee pot, a can of milk, and various other necessities, and to the surprise of the boys it at once became evident that both Ethan and his son were adepts in the art of preparing a dinner in a St. Lawrence camp.
Soon a savory odor rose from the fireplace, and the curiosity of the boys gave place to a feeling of eagerness for the time to come when they would be summoned to the repast. The few dishes were at last brought forth, the dinner was declared to be ready, and the boys fell to with a will.
What appetites they had! How good everything tasted! For a time even conversation was neglected, but at last, when the cravings of the inner man began to be appeased, then the joy and inspiration of the hour once more returned.
“I s’pose ye’ve got a pretty fair house down to New York?” queried Ethan of Jock.
“Oh, yes. It’s one you might call comfortable, I suppose,” said Jock, with a laugh.
“Got good beds in it?”
“Yes.”
“Your ma keeps a girl, I s’pose?”
“Keeps a girl? I don’t know that I understand what you mean,” said Jock.