While the girls emptied the contents of the lunch basket and spread the good things about in a shady spot, Walter gathered some wood, dug a hole in the ground and lighted a roaring fire. As the flames died down he carefully raked the embers into the hole, until he had a small furnace that gave forth an intense heat.
Then he prepared a skillet of oak twigs dexterously twisted together, and was ready. Jack and Paul in the meantime had been cleaning the fish.
“Hurry up, you common laborers,” ordered Walter in a lordly tone. “Don’t keep an artist waiting.”
A fish-head whizzed past his ear and he hastily sought refuge behind a tree.
“Bad shooting,” he taunted.
“Good enough to make you duck,” retorted Jack.
“While these rough-necks are disturbing the peace,” drawled Walter, “it might be a good idea to get some of those blackberries up there. They’ll come in handy for dessert.”
He pointed to a group of bushes about a hundred feet distant.
“I’ll go,” volunteered Belle, rising to her feet. “You girls go on getting things ready. This lunch basket is empty now and I’ll take it along for the berries.”
She started to pick busily, while Walter, taking the fish that had been cleaned, began to broil them over the fire.