Thus matters went on, successfully but slowly, until some of the boys showed such plain signs of impatience that Tim thought it necessary to display more evidences of the dinner, even though the hen was far from being roasted.
He and Bobby selected from the cooked provisions enough in the way of pies and cake to make twice as large a party feel very uncomfortable. They spread this feast at one side of the fire, where it would be out of the way of the smoke, and Tim was trying to calculate how it would be possible to cut an apple pie in eleven pieces, and have them all of equal size, when a sound as of water coming in contact with fire, accompanied by a cry of dismay from Bill Thompson, caused him to start violently.
The sight that met his startled gaze was a sad one, and it did not seem any less so to him than it did to all the others of that hungry party.
The kettle of potatoes had been hung to the poles by a rope, which had burnt slowly until it broke, letting the potatoes, water, and kettle into the fire, deluging the half-roasted hen, and basting it with cinders until it looked like a huge ball of mud.
The steam and smoke were so dense that it was impossible to attempt a rescue. All that could be done was to wait a few moments, and Tim spent that time dancing around the ruins like a crazy Indian.
It was a horror-stricken party that stood around the drowned fire, watching the cooks as they fished up first the muddy hen, and then the potatoes, all looking very sorry for their plunge into the ashes.
“Now all you’ve got to do,” said Bill Thompson, with the air of one who knew, “is to put the potatoes right back an’ wash the hen. They’ll cook jest as well as ever, only it’ll take a little longer, that’s all.”
Surely there was nothing so serious about the accident if it could be repaired with so little trouble, and the spirits of the party rose as rapidly as they had fallen. The hen was given a sea bath, which took nearly all the ashes off, and those which remained, Bill Thompson thought, would make her taste the better. The potatoes did not need any cleansing, so Tim thought, and were put into the pot again, looking quite dirty, but in very nearly a cooked condition.
Another fire was built, and rocks were placed in such a way around it that the kettle could rest on them. The hen was put on another stick, and again the chances for dinner looked promising.
The food which had been spread out on the ground looked very tempting to the idle ones of the hungry party, and every now and then one would try to get a piece of pie or cake, until Tim, who was determined that no one should have anything to eat until all could be served, was almost at his wits’ end to prevent them from making a perfect raid on the larder.