“They’re rising just right,” the Cub leader said, presently peeking into the oven. “Another five minutes and they’ll be golden brown.”
“They sure smell good,” Red declared, sniffing the air. “I could eat a dozen of ’em myself.”
“We only allowed three for each Cub,” Mr. Hatfield laughed. “The fire’s burning out though. We need more wood.”
The Cubs had not gathered enough. So after taking another glance at the biscuits to be certain they would not burn, Mr. Hatfield and Red set off together to find a few sticks.
Suitable wood was not to be found close to the camp. Already the Cubs had gathered this. Compelled to seek farther away, the Cub leader and Red consumed more time than they had intended in gathering sticks.
“Let’s get back,” Mr. Hatfield advised. “If we let those biscuits burn, the boys will mob us.”
As the two returned to the campfire, they met the Cubs trotting in with their filled canteens.
“Hey!” yelled Dan. “Aren’t those biscuits done yet?”
“They should be,” Mr. Hatfield answered. “Start your eggs frying, boys, so everything will come off the fire at the same time. Brad will show you what to do.”
“How about those biscuits?” Red said anxiously. “They’ve been in the oven a long time.”