“Cold lunch,” said Joe, grinning. “Ranger’s orders.”
“Oh, not a cold lunch! Mr. Mills—Mr. Mills—cook says you say a cold lunch. You didn’t say that, did you?”
“Sure, ice water and a cracker,” the Ranger grinned. “Can’t stop to cook.”
“Oh, please, just coffee—mother will never get back on her horse without a cup of coffee.”
“I’ll never get back without two cups,” groaned Mrs. Jones.
“Well, Joe, make ’em coffee,” said Mills, with a wink at Joe, who had been intending to make coffee all the time.
He filled his kettle at the little brook, and while the coffee was boiling, opened a small can of sardines apiece, some boxes of crackers, a can of beans, and two or three jars of jam. For the jam, he carefully whittled some dead pine limbs into rough spoons, to save dish washing, and sweetened the coffee, when ready, in the pot, for the same purpose.
By the time he had this very simple lunch spread out on a bit of level ground, with no plates or spoons except for the beans, which he had heated while the coffee was boiling, the party had scattered, all but Val, the young cowboy.
“Ready?” Val asked.
“All ready.”