“I was never so hungry in my life,” Bennie said.
“I ain’t hungry any more,” Dumplin’ replied. “I was three hours ago, but now I’m past caring. I’m just a vacuum.”
“Stomach or head?” his father asked.
The food had been cooked in a hurry, but nobody cared. Eating by lantern light and the glow from the stove door, they gobbled the bacon and swallowed the coffee in eager gulps.
“Glad Ma can’t see my table manners now!” Spider remarked, his mouth full.
When the meal was over Norman went off again through the trees to see if he could find the camp of the fishermen who possibly set the fire, and the rest lay on their backs by the water, discussing the exciting day. Norman came back to report that three men were camping around a headland, and he suspected one of them must have thrown away a cigarette, though they denied it.
“And to think,” said the doctor, “that if we hadn’t come along, the fire might have got a headway and burned thousands of acres, just because one man didn’t have sense enough not to throw a cigarette butt into the brush! Some folks ought not to be allowed in the woods.”
“Well, me for a bath and bed,” said Mr. Stone. “I don’t know which I need more.”
The full moon was rising behind Three Fingered Jack when they all jumped into the lake, which was surprisingly shallow near shore, and had a good bath. Then they climbed wearily into their tents, and in two minutes they were in bed. But no sooner had they got snuggled down in the dark than there came a yell from the doctor.
“Here, get up, Bennie, and take that pup out of here! He’s licking my face!”