“Say, how much air do these things hold?” Bennie called. “I been pumping an hour.”
“Well, sleep on it flat if you’re tired. But I want mine blown up,” his uncle answered.
At last they had all five bags blown up and laid in the tents. By this time the fire was roaring in the stove, and Dumplin’ had a neat little wood-pile beside it, the two men had set up a folding table and chairs, and food and coffee were cooking on the stove. Pretty soon Mr. Stone called out, “Come and get it!” and with a lantern hanging from a limb over the table, they all sat down.
“Well, this sure beats a hotel!” said Uncle Bill.
“Beats a couple of hotels,” said Dumplin’, wiping his perspiring forehead. “You don’t have to wear a coat here.”
“Wait till you get to the lake, and you’ll be hollering for a coat,” his father smiled.
After supper, the boys drew lots to see who would wash the dishes. Bennie lost, and the rest built a little camp fire between the two tents while he was clearing up. They lay around the fire talking for an hour, and then Uncle Billy ordered “Bed!”
“Early start tomorrow,” he said. “Everybody out at five.”
The boys undressed and crawled into their sleeping bags. Then they bounced up and down to feel how comfortable they were.
“Mine’s too hard,” said Bennie.