“I never learned how to bake ’em,” Jack admitted, relaxing a bit. “You have to have an oven for that.”
“A reflector oven isn’t hard to make,” Mr. Hatfield said. “Any of the Cubs could teach you.”
“They could?” Jack gazed at the boys with new respect. “I’d sure like to learn.”
“You come with us on our next hike, and we’ll show you,” Mr. Hatfield promised.
“But I’m not a Cub.”
“That makes no difference. Glad to have you.” Jack’s face lighted up, and then the old look of frustration returned.
“Thanks,” he said, “but I can’t make it. The Widow wouldn’t let me go. She keeps me chop, chop, chopping wood night and day.”
“You seem to be enjoying yourself now,” Brad remarked significantly.
Jack stirred the coals and replied: “Oh, I ran off. She’ll switch me when I get back. It only tickles though.”
Mr. Hatfield squatted by the fire and said in a friendly way: “How are things working out, Jack? You don’t much like it at the Widow’s place?”