The Indian had made a good fire of twigs which he had gathered, and had buried some of the fish underneath in the sand, to bake, throwing potatoes into the fire to roast.
"Look, fellows, mother put in a homemade cake," announced Jerry, setting a tempting chocolate-covered cake on the papers which served as a table cloth.
"Doughnuts and pickles," announced Fly, filling some wooden plates.
"Wow, chili sauce—hot—for baked fish."
"Con carni for anybody that wants it—I don't," put in Herb.
"Bread," "Sandwiches," "Olives," and so on each boy announced gayly as his contribution to the feast, and, when they finally sat down in a circle, they proved their keen appetites by the way things disappeared.
There was not much conversation during the meal. They were all too hungry to talk.
"What's the use of hunting any more, fellows?" said Dunk, at last, when there was some show of abatement on the part of the diners. "We can't do much better'n a grizzly."
"What if we should get a deer," encouraged Tender Gray. "I saw some prints around here."
"Suppose you know as much about deer prints as bear prints," teased Herb, remembering Tender's mistake.