“That’s always in order, like a motion to adjourn,” 133 acquiesced Teddy. “Come along, Bill, and we’ll show these fellows how to cook.”
Teddy and Bill went down into the little cuddy, got out the tiny oil stove, and the odors of sizzling bacon and steaming coffee soon made Lester and Fred sniff the air hungrily.
“I didn’t know how hungry I was till just now,” said the latter.
“I didn’t either,” returned Lester. “I was so worked up over that tussle with the shark that I didn’t have time to think of anything else. But now I’m hungry enough to eat nails.”
“If that’s the way you refer to the meal we’re getting up, you can’t have any,” threatened Teddy. “We may not be hotel chefs, but we’ll not stand for having our eats compared to nails, will we, Bill?”
“Not by a jugful!” answered Bill, as he scrambled some eggs in the bacon grease.
“Take it all back,” laughed Lester.
Teddy cut some slices of bread and Bill opened a jar of marmalade, which they put with the other eatables on the tiny table leaves that they propped up on both sides of the centerboard.
“Come along now, you aristocrats,” called out Teddy, “and profit by the labor of us poor working men.”
The wind was steady, so that Lester could fasten his tiller while Fred hitched the sail rope round a 134 cleat. Then they crowded into the little cabin and passed judgment on the dinner. That it was a favorable one was shown by the magical rapidity with which every crumb disappeared.