That difficulty was soon swept aside, for the others nominated several dishes they chanced to be exceedingly fond of, and Pudge found he was going to have his hands full preparing them with such limited accommodations.
However, willing hands make light work, and both Frank and Billy were ready to give him all the assistance required; so that in the end they had quite a feast spread upon the little drop-table that took up no space at all when not required for use.
It was a peculiar supper-setting, with only that one lantern to give them light. Of course they could have used the acetylene lamps, but their supply of carbide was rather low, and there could be no certainty about obtaining a further amount, so Frank thought it best to husband what they had.
The weird appearance of the big seaplane added more or less to the strangeness of their surroundings. Still, by this time, all of the boys had become so accustomed to seeing its bat-like wings, and the boat body with the spoon-shaped bow that they would have missed it had the hangar been empty.
Over the meal they chatted in low tones, discussing many things connected with their mission across the sea. Little was said concerning the contemplated dash laid out for the following morning, because in the first place they knew none of the particulars; and then again the raid was the Allies’ secret, not theirs.
The unexpected presence of that concealed spy had given them a rude jolt. They appeared to be living in an atmosphere of espionage; and somehow it seemed as though hostile eyes and ears might be close by, even though unseen.
When finally they were through, it was remembered that they had decided to give the chilled guards a treat; so Pudge brewed a copious amount of strong coffee that was of a rich dark color, and had the “odor of ambrosia,” as Billy called it.
“Since you’ve done so much, Pudge,” remarked Frank, “you’re going to be the one to go along with me on the rounds. So get that big tin cup, and we’ll carry the can of condensed Swiss milk with us. We might as well give them the coffee just as they fancy it, either black or with the fixings.”
Pudge beamed on his chum. Evidently he had not expected to be favored with an invitation like this; for as a rule he was apt to be left behind on account of his well-known clumsiness.
Frank, however, was wise enough to carry the steaming pot of coffee himself, as an insurance against spilling. If Pudge did happen to trip over some unseen obstruction and measure his length he could hardly do worse than spill the thick condensed milk, or dent the big tin cup.