“Let the food close that trap of yours, Buster, please,” said George. “That’s the way he goes, ding-dong, the whole blessed day, fellows; until I can hardly think straight, when I’m trying to figure on how to bridle that high-stepper of a motor of mine.”
They were soon all hard at work, and after the first keen edge of their appetites had been taken off, it was a merry group that gathered near the fire, eating, chatting and with a continual flow of wit passing back and forth.
Nevertheless Jack could not forget about the mysterious disappearance of the food, and every little while he would get up, to take a stroll around to the other side of the tent; just as though he half feared that some daring intruder might try to cut into the back of the canvas, with the intention of continuing his depredations.
“How about that old paper Andy brought with him?” asked George, after they had eaten all that was possible; and even Buster was seen to shake his head when Josh asked if anybody would have any more coffee, baked beans, crackers, or cheese.
“Say, that’s a fact!” cried Herb, “we went and forgot all about it. You see, Jack crammed it in a pocket of his old jacket; and all of us were that anxious to be off we didn’t remember to have the account of the robbery read out. Got it yet, haven’t you, Jack?”
“Sure I have,” replied the other, “and if you wait a minute I’ll get the same, so we can enjoy the thrilling story right here and now. Those kind of yarns always sound better around the blazing camp fire, you know.”
“Kinder go with ghosts, and all that sort of thing, eh?” came from Buster, who was eyeing the remnant of ham in the fryingpan, and heaving a sigh, as though it really gave him a pain to think that his capacity seemed to have been reached before the last bit had been disposed of; that was next door to a sin with Buster, who would gorge himself rather than see the least thing wasted, or thrown away.
“Ghosts don’t burgle any that I ever heard of,” observed Josh, calmly picking up the said skillet, and with a fling sending a small portion of the fatty end of ham flying into the bushes, at which Buster sank back, disappointed.
“Arrah, sure they do the quarest things ye iver heard till on,” declared Andy; and then gave a quick look at Jack, as though half expecting to be taken to task because of his clinging belief in hobgoblins, and all such things.
But Jack did not see fit to pay the slightest attention to anything so trifling just then. He passed into the tent, to where he had hung his coat; for with his sweater on he had not felt the need of extra covering. And presently he came out again, carrying the paper in his hand.