"Yes. The whole business. Neither have we any butter or lard. We shall have to cook the beans in themselves and eat them without seasoning."
"Cook the bacon with them. That will furnish the salt," suggested
Stacy.
"Large head," laughed Ned. "I'll do it. Go fetch me some water."
Stacy hurried away whistling, and in a few minutes returned with his sombrero filled with clear, cool mountain water.
"Here, here! What do you mean? Think we want to drink out of that old hat?" jeered Ned. "Get a pail; what ails you?"
"Nothing ails me. It's the pail you want to find fault with—not with me."
"What do you mean?"
"The pail's down at the bottom of the mountain with Tad," grinned
Stacy.
"That's one on me," laughed Ned. "Very well, go wash the hat thoroughly. I suppose we shall have to use it for a water pail. A good scrubbing won't do it any harm, at that."
"I did wash it," replied Stacy. "Think I'd bring you water in it without doing so?"