“Well, if only you’ve got the money to buy things,” remarked Ethan, “there’s no need of anybody going into the woods, and taking chances of starving these days, when they supply all these wonderful condensed things. But as for me I’d rather just keep them for an emergency, and live on the fat of the land as long as I could find any fresh meat.”
The old Scotch-Canadian was greatly impressed with the explanations given by Phil. He examined the various cans and packages closely, and seemed to handle them almost reverently, as though it was utterly beyond his ken how they could so preserve eggs and things in such a condensed form. And yet for years he had been using, off and on, milk that had been conserved after the same principle.
“Supper’s ready for serving, fellows; so get your pannikins where I can dish things out!” announced Lub about that time.
They were soon enjoying themselves about as well as any one could wish. Really Lub was getting better at his profession all the time, and X-Ray as well as Ethan did not hesitate to tell him so.
“Now, I know you’re just giving me that taffy so as to influence me to keep on the job right along,” urged Lub, a little suspicious when the “Greeks came bearing gifts,” though his eyes did twinkle with gratification at hearing the warm praise, because time had been when the same fat boy was very green in connection with camp cookery, and afforded his chums many a hearty laugh over his blunders.
“Honest to goodness I mean every word of it, and more too, Lub!” affirmed X-Ray.
“I never tasted a better cup of coffee,” declared Ethan; “and these beans are warmed up to beat the band; while the bacon is as crisp and brown as—well, as I could fry it myself, and that’s the highest praise anybody would want to have handed out to them, I guess.”
There was enough and to spare, for after the last appetite had been appeased Lub declared that it was a shame to leave that small portion, so he would have to put it away himself, which he accordingly did, though they warned him he was in danger of bursting from over feeding.
Afterwards they made themselves comfortable, each with his warm blanket about his shoulders, and facing the fire. A couple of logs rolled up near the blaze afforded them seats, and for at least two hours they continued to chat on every sort of subject.
Their home life was often touched upon, as well as previous outings in which they had taken part. Ethan even told “The” McNab what wonderful success he had had in his root-gathering and fur-trapping. On hearing how a single black fox skin had netted him three hundred dollars the Scotch farmer said he did not doubt it as he knew a man who had received three times that sum for an especially fine pelt.