“Well, let’s get busy,” said Nelson. “We’ll help you, Bob.”
“All right; there’s the potatoes and here’s the knife. Peel them thin, now. By the way, how would they taste fried?”
“Oh, great!” cried Dan, smacking his lips. “Say, I believe this old fog makes a fellow hungrier than anything else!”
“Fried it is, then,” answered Bob. “There’s plenty of lard. Find the can opener, Dan, and yank the lid off of one of those cans of hash.”
“We never got a can opener!” exclaimed Nelson. “I forgot all about it. Use the old potato knife, Dan.”
“All right. Say, this is great fun, isn’t it? Wow!”
“Cut yourself?” asked Nelson.
“Oh, not much. Next time I see a store I’m going to buy an opener if it costs ten cents! Thunder!”
The can slipped out of his hands and went skimming across the oilcloth floor. Luckily the top was only half off and very little of the contents was spilled. Dan rescued it, seated himself on the steps and, placing it firmly between his knees, sawed away at the tin.
“There you are!” he said triumphantly. “It smells mighty good, too! Hurry up, Nel, with those potatoes, or I’ll perish before your very eyes.”