“What may that be, Jimmie?” inquired Ralph, while Mountain Jim grinned expansively.
Persimmons sniffed the air anticipatively.
“Seems to me I do smell something good,” he remarked.
“How would pancakes go?” inquired Jimmie.
“Great! Jimmie, you ought to be in Delmonico’s,” cried Hardware hungrily.
“I’ve been on the outside lookin’ in, many a time,” said Jimmie with a grin, as he turned to the “spider” and began dishing up the thin, brown batter cakes.
Mountain Jim was on hand with a tin of maple syrup fashioned like a miniature log-cabin, the chimney forming the spout.
“Eat hearty, boys,” he said, as he passed it along, “and try to forget the black flies for a while.”
Early as the hour was, those pests were already at work, in spite of the “smudge” that Mountain Jim had built.
“Wish I’d put some of that black-fly dope on my hands,” muttered Hardware, “it’s great stuff.”