“I wish we had a Chinaman along,” remarked Fred. “We’d get him to make us a soup out of the shark’s fins.”
“We’ll try it ourselves if we get hard up,” laughed Ross, “but it seems to me we’ve got our money’s worth out of the shark already, without taxing him any further.”
They waded out to the boats and ransacked the lockers, returning loaded with coffee and bacon and beans and eggs and jams, the sight of which added a spur to their already lively appetites.
“That looks like Mark’s boat out there now,” observed Lester, as he straightened up and surveyed the sea.
He pointed to a tiny catboat coming in at a 156 spanking gait, and that seemed to be headed directly for that part of the beach where the boys stood.
“At the rate he’s coming, he’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” Lester announced a moment later.
“What’s the matter with having supper all ready when the old man gets in?” chuckled Fred. “It’ll pay for using his tools, and it will give him the surprise of his life.”
“Good thing!” exclaimed Lester heartily. “The poor old chap doesn’t get many surprises–pleasant ones I mean–and it will warm his heart.”
“To say nothing of his stomach,” added the ever practical Bill.
The boys set to work with a zest, and five pairs of hands transformed the interior of the little hut in a twinkling. Fred lighted a fire in the rusty stove, Bill cut up some wood for fuel, Ross brought water for the coffee from a neighboring spring, Teddy cleared the litter of odds and ends off the rough pine table and set out the eatables, while Lester fried the bacon, warmed the beans and made the coffee. Everything, even down to salt and sugar, had come from their own stores, so that Mark’s meagre stock was not drawn upon for anything. A fluffy omelet finished Lester’s part of the work, and when Ross produced a big apple pie that his landlady had given him to take along that morning, the boys stood off and viewed their handiwork with pride.