Soon delicious odors began to arise and be wafted away on the evening air. If any of those curious little woods rodents that might be peeping from their covert at the invaders of their solitude had a nose capable of appreciating such perfumes, they must have been greatly edified by these queer goings-on.
But hungry boys have no thought save to satisfy their clamorous appetites, and so little unnecessary talking was done up to the time when the trio curled themselves up with their feet under them, tailor fashion, and proceeded to clean off their heaping pie pans of the savory mess that had been prepared.
17CHAPTER III
THE FIRST NIGHT UNDER CANVAS
“This is something that just can’t be beat!” Toby remarked, after he had made serious inroads upon his first helping, and taken off the keen edge of his clamorous appetite. “I enjoy my food at home all right, but let me tell you nothing can ever quite come up to a supper cooked under the trees, and far removed from all the things you’re accustomed to meeting every day.”
“And this coffee is sure nectar for the gods,” said Steve, helping himself to a second cup as he spoke. “Now, at home I never can bear this tinned cream, yet, strange to say, up here in the woods it seems to go first rate. Pass me the sugar, please, Jack. And Toby, after I’ve slacked my hunger a bit so I can act half way decent I’m meaning to toast some of the slices of bread at that splendid red-ash fire.”
So they continued to sit there and fairly gorge themselves until Steve could hardly sigh, he was so full; but then all boys are built pretty much alike in that respect, so we can easily forgive Steve in particular. Cutting wood does put an edge on a naturally keen appetite that knows no 18 limit save capacity; and Steve had many good qualities to more than balance his greediness.
Later on when they lay around enjoying the sight of the crackling fire, and casting pleased glances toward the capacious khaki-colored waterproof tent that stood close by, they talked of many things that had some connection with their intended stay in the Pontico Hills country.
“This sweet little stream with the ice-cold water is the Spruce Creek you’ve got marked on your map, of course, Jack?” suggested Toby. “Now how far away would you say Paradise River lies from our camp?”
“Oh! not more than ten minutes’ walk from here, I imagine, and in that direction,” and Jack pointed as he spoke, showing that he already had his bearings pretty well fixed in his mind.