The supper was indeed a genuine feast. The vegetables, being well cooked, tasted delicious to the hungry boys, and Crane declared that never before had he “stuck a tooth into such snappin’ good lambsteak.” Their wet clothing had dried out completely, and, properly dressed, they were inclined to lounge about after eating, their well filled stomachs making them comfortably torpid and lazy.
But Stone would not let them loaf until the work of starting the beans baking was performed. Slightly more than a full pint of beans were placed in a kettle of boiling water to which one-fourth of a teaspoonful of baking soda had been added. Two of the boys cut and brought a big supply of dry hardwood, while the other two were digging a deep hole in the ground a short distance from the regular fireplace; and when the hole was dug to the cook’s satisfaction he filled it with plenty of light kindling and built above it a high pile of crossed hardwood sticks, cob-house fashion. A blaze was then started in the kindling, and soon the whole mass was roaring like a bonfire.
While the fire was burning down and filling the hole with a mass of red-hot, glowing coals, Ben completed the preparation of the beans, which had been permitted to boil a full half hour. A sizeable piece of salt pork was cut in two pieces, each of which was gashed with a knife. One piece was placed in the bottom of the kettle, and then the beans, with the water fully drained off, were poured in upon the pork, the second piece of which was placed on top of them. Salt, pepper and a tablespoonful of molasses were added, and the cover of the pot put on securely.
Next the coals were carefully raked out of the hole, into which the beanpot was placed. This done, the coals were pushed back around the pot, packing it on every side and covering it from view. Lastly these glowing coals were covered by a few inches of earth, and then Ben announced that the work was done.
“Huh!” grunted Springer skeptically. “Do you mum-mean to tell us that beans will cook pup-properly that way? Why, they won’t get half done before those coals will all be dead.”
“We’ll see about that in the morning,” said Ben, with a faint smile. “I admit this is the first time I’ve ever cooked them in this fashion, but I once saw beans baked in a hole at a Grand Army encampment, and I don’t believe I’ve bungled much.”
The evening passed quickly and pleasantly enough. For a time Grant strummed on his guitar; but, somehow, they were not in the mood for singing, and when they finally grew weary of story-telling and chatting they went to bed.
And for the first time since coming to Pleasant Point all slept soundly the night through.
It must be confessed that Stone arose in the morning with a slight feeling of anxiety about the beans, although he successfully disguised this fact, taking the regular plunge with the others and dressing as deliberately as any of them. No one suggested fishing this morning, but all seemed eager for breakfast.
“Bub-bub-baked beans would go first-rate,” said Springer; “but I’m afraid we’ll feed on something else.”