To Bill had fallen the task of cooking, and he was busy frying eggs and bacon in a long-handled pan, which he rested on a bed of coals.

At the sight of Tom and the coffee pot, he called: 

“Tell Horace to pour some water into the drinking cups, put the coffee in the pot and set it in the fire.  Supper’ll be ready before the coffee unless you hurry.”

But Tom was not a boy to shirk work, and directing his brother to bring the cups, he sent his aide for the coffee while he prepared a good hot bed of coals.

The odor from the sputtering bacon whetted their appetites, and all but Bill devoted their energies to hurrying the coffee and to such good purpose that they disproved the old saying, “A watched pot never boils.”

At last all was ready, and the hunters squatted tailor fashion on the ground, each before his plate of eggs and bacon and a steaming cup of coffee.

“My, but this tastes better than anything I ever ate before,” declared Larry.

“Because the ride has given you a keen appetite,” said the ranchman with a smile.

The others were too busy eating to offer any comment, and the meal progressed in silence till almost the last bit of food had disappeared.

“Hop Joy certainly can cook,” complimented Tom as he reached for another doughnut from the fast vanishing pile.

“That’s what I told you,” returned Horace.  “From the way they are going, it’s a good thing I went back and put in an extra supply when Hop wasn’t looking.”

“He’ll fix you when we get back!” cried Bill.  “Tom, who does the dishes?  For your benefit and before my young brother gets a chance to speak, I’ll tell you that the cook never washes the dishes.”

“Oh, what a whopper!” cried Horace.  “Tom, the cook always washes them.  That’s all he does, wash dishes and cook.”

“Well, we’ll all help,” declared the youthful commander of the camp.

This arrangement met with laughing approval, and because of the many hands, the task was soon finished.

“And now, as we must be up with the dawn if we are going to get a shot at any deer, I suggest that we turn in,” remarked Mr. Wilder.

“Where did you put the pine boughs, Horace?  I don’t see them.”

“I left them over by the tree,” replied the lieutenant, grinning.  “I didn’t know how many each of you would want, so I thought the best way was to let you pick out all you pleased.”

“Lazy bones!  Lazy bones!” shouted the other boys, and Tom cried: 

“That trick won’t work this time.  Now, hurry and tote the boughs over.”

Making a face at his superior, Horace Jumped tip and soon came back, dragging a monster pile of fragrant pine branches, which he quickly separated into five heaps.

“Does the honored general wish me to wrap and tuck each one in his bed or will they do that themselves?” he asked, bowing in mock deference.