The boys said it was, and they agreed to adopt Harry’s proposal. Jim went off with the milk-pail, and when the fire was ready, Harry took a can of soup and put it on the coals to be heated.
Jim found a house quite near at hand, where he bought two quarts of milk and a loaf of bread, and was back again at the camp before the soup was ready. He found the boys lying near the fire, waiting for the soup to heat and the coffee to boil.
“That soup takes a long time to heat through,” said Tom. “There isn’t a bit of steam coming out of it yet.”
“How can any steam come out of it when it’s soldered up tight,” replied Harry.
THE SOUP EXPLOSION.
“You don’t mean to tell me that you’ve put the can on the fire without punching a hole in the top?”
“Of course I have. What on earth should I punch a hole in it for?”
“Because—” cried Tom, hastily springing up.
But he was interrupted by a report like that of a small cannon: a cloud of ashes rose over the fire, and a shower of soup fell just where Tom had been lying.