Chot and Pod unrolled the tent, which was “V” shaped, with no sides, being intended merely for a roof. They stretched it between the trees, spread four blankets on the soft grass, took the cushions out of the canoes, and the sleeping quarters of the party were ready for occupancy.
Then each boy turned his attention to the preparing of the meal. The coffee was soon steaming in a kettle over the fire, kindled by Pod with some dry leaves and branches. Tom cut slices of rye bread, and spread tempting pieces of boiled ham between them. Fleet opened two cans of beans, and a jar of raspberry jam, and all was ready.
To say that the boys enjoyed their first meal would be but half expressing it. Fleet ate everything that was put before him and cried for more.
“These beans are the finest I’ve ever had,” said he, though his mouth was so full that his words were hardly intelligible to his chums.
“Don’t forget your table manners,” said Tom. “Remember your mother taught you not to talk with your mouth full.”
“He’s not talking,” said Pod. “He’s only trying.”
“Blub—blub—blub—I’ll—I’ll—gug—gug—gug—get—you—fuh—fuh—blub—blub——” spluttered Fleet.
“Swallow it!” cried Chot, “and don’t do it again. We’re running a respectable boarding house—not a pig pen.”
Fleet swallowed as Chot told him, coughed violently, then seized one of the water bottles and drank long and hard.
“Leave the bottle, and we’ll fill it again,” said Tom.