"All right, put it down," said Ned, turning away.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"If I put the hat down the water will all run out over the top."
"Then stand there and hold it till we get through supper," growled Ned, turning to the fire where the bacon was frying in the pan of beans.
Stacy eyed him questioningly for a few seconds, and then with an exclamation poured the water on the ground, jamming the wet, dripping sombrero down over his head.
"You go get your own water. I'm not the cook, anyhow," he said, thrusting both hands into his trousers pockets and strolling over to the other side of the fire, where he watched the supper preparations out of the corners of his eyes.
"Serve you right if we didn't give you any supper," commented Ned.
"I'll set the table if you will agree not to find fault with the way I do it," offered the boy.
"Go ahead. I'll promise."