“Grub’s ready!” came the announcement of Frank, as he walked over toward Tom. “Wilt your most gracious majesty deign to partake of our humble fare?” and he dropped on one knee, and offered to Tom, on a plate, a slice of bread.
For a moment the tall pitcher held out against the envoy, and then a faint smile broke over his face.
“If you fellows are done finding fault,” he said, “I’ll come in and help. But I don’t like to do all the work, and then have it rubbed in the way you chaps did.”
“That’s right, we did lay it on a bit thick,” admitted Frank, contritely.
“And I got a bit hot under the collar,” spoke Tom, confessing in his turn.
“Come on and eat,” urged Frank. “The stuff is getting cold. It isn’t such bad coffee after all.”
“I paid enough for it,” retorted Tom.
And thus the little cloud was blown away. Soon all were eating merrily. The meal being finished, they began to get the cots in shape, for it was drawing on to afternoon.
The boys had two large tents, one for eating, and the other for sleeping in, and lounging during the day. A smaller one served as kitchen and storeroom.
By evening they were in good shape, and accepted an invitation to take supper at one of the cottages, the owner of which with his wife and daughters, had learned that the boys were friends of the Tylers, who had not yet arrived.