"Don't you get attached to that idea so that you can't be pried loose, old man," Kingdon advised. "That tall fellow looks good to me."
They had drawn lots and it had fallen to Rex to get dinner, with Phillips to assist. Hunger urged them to prepare a "bounteous repast," but neither of the cooks would ever win a medal from the Association of Chefs, and Peewee so declared.
"If it wasn't for the canned beans, this layout would be a frost," croaked that diminutive critic. "Who couldn't warm over beans? Is that dish going to be about all we get our teeth clamped on this week?"
"I'll try some flapjacks for supper," promised Phillips.
Cloudman grinned. "Ever make any?" he asked.
"No. But we've got a cook at home that makes 'em fine."
"What are you going to make 'em out of?"
"There's a package of flapjack flour. All you got to do is to mix 'em up and fry 'em, I s'pose."
"The directions say, 'Mix with buttermilk,'" chuckled Applejack.
"Huh!"