“Look who’s calling who fat!” Jerry spluttered between mouthfuls. “The original blob in person.”
Quiz sniffed. “My mother thinks I’m perfect just the way I am. When this baby fat drops off, I’ll have a physique the likes of which you’ve never seen.”
“That I can believe!” Jerry said.
“Break it up, boys,” Russ laughed. “After a month in the woods, you’ll both be slim as reeds and hard as rocks.”
“Will we really be camping out for the whole month?” Sandy asked curiously.
“Well, we’ll always be on the move. Of course, there will be times when we’ll stop over at ranger stations or lumber camps. But for the most part, we’ll be roughing it in the best frontier tradition.”
“What time do we leave?” Jerry wanted to know.
“Tomorrow morning at six. Packs will be rolled before we hit the sack tonight.”
“Packs?” Jerry asked.
Russell Steele nodded as he relit his pipe with a long wooden match. “A conventional infantryman’s pack. Bedroll, shelter half, tent pegs, mess kit, raincoat, socks, underwear, spare shirt and levis, canned goods, K-rations, toothbrush, shaving kit, trenching tools, and, of course, a canteen and cup on your belt. We’ll split up the larger utensils—pots and frying pans.”