"No; jealous," Tom assured her. "Dan and I have been fishing, too. Come and see what we caught."
Tom led the way to where he had cleaned more than a dozen black bass, while in buckets of water lay nearly thirty more fine, sleek-looking fish.
"Didn't you catch anything but bass?" Dave asked.
"A few other fish," Tom admitted, "but we threw the inferior fish back into the water. Now, girls, which are you going to have—-trout or bass?"
"Both—-if we may," ventured Laura, with a smile.
And both were served at the meal. Motherly Mrs. Bentley laid aside her motoring dust coat and marshaled the girls for the various tasks to which she assigned them.
What a hubbub there was in preparing the feast!
Dick built two small fires for his own exclusive use. Tom built two more, while Dan and Greg skirmished for more wood. Dr. Bentley, his coat off and shirt sleeves rolled up, constructed a "warm oven" with stones topped by a large baking tin. Then he built another.
Dick fried the trout, while Dr. Bentley started low fires under the two crude warming ovens. As fast as trout were fried they were dropped into one oven, Tom's bass being dropped into the other. Potatoes were boiling in one pot, tinned peas in another, and tinned string beans in still another. Tinned pudding was set in another pot of water to heat, while Mrs. Bentley made a sauce, and the girls set the table and made the other necessary preparations for the luncheon.
Presently the meal was ready, though the boys did not seat themselves until they had seen their welcome guests served.