"We are," Tom assured the grumbler.
Though the codfish should have been soaked over night, Dick accomplished much the same effect by repeatedly scalding it. Then he put it on to cook in boiling water, and next made a flour sauce in the way that his mother had patiently taught him. The hard boiled eggs, after being cooled in cold water, were sliced up and put over the dish when it was ready. This, with potatoes, bread and butter and weak coffee with condensed milk, made a meal that satisfied all hands. Hen didn't like the meal, but he ate more of it than any one else.
"What are we going to do to-day for fun?" Dan wanted to know as breakfast drew to a close.
"Shovel paths and stock up with water and firewood, I guess," smiled Dick.
"Pshaw! I'm sorry it has to be all work, and that we can't have any fun," remarked Harry Hazelton. "I've just been longing to go hunting and get a rabbit for a stew."
"We'll be here for days and days yet," answered Dick. "I guess we'll be able to find plenty of fun before our camping frolic is over."
"It's fun, just being here and living this way," Darrin declared.
Something beat against one of the windows, causing the boys to look around curiously.
"Just a twig blown off from some tree," declared Tom.
"Is it?" floated back from Greg, who had leaped up and was now hurrying toward the window in question. "It's a pigeon—that's what it is. And the poor thing looks perishing, too."