possessed for the benefit of his comrades and himself.

There was no meat in the camp for dinner or supper save the pork on
which they had feasted since they arrived there, and that was fast
giving out. Cyrus, in addition to his knapsack, had hauled over from
Greenville, where articles of camp fare could be procured in abundance,
a goodly supply of tea, coffee, condensed milk, flour, salt, sugar,
etc., in a stout canvas bag, Neal at intervals helping him with the
burden. For the rest he had trusted to Nature's larder, and such food as
he might purchase from his guides, desiring to go into the woods as
"light" as possible.

Uncle Eb had baked bread for his guests after a fashion of his own on
the camp frying-pan, setting the pan on some glowing coals a foot or so
from the fire; he had fried unlimited flapjacks, and had cheerfully
placed what stores he had at their disposal. His three luxuries were
novelties to the English lads, being pork, maple sugar,--drawn from the
beautiful maple-trees near his camp,--and a small wooden keg of sticky,
dark molasses. The sugar was the only one which Dol found palatable; and
he knew that the Bostonian, Cyrus, shared his feeling. To tell the
truth, the juvenile Adolphus was not fastidious, but he was suddenly
seized with an ambitious desire to vary the diet of the camp.

"Uncle Eb said that I could use this 'ole fuzzee,' as he called it,
whenever I liked," he muttered, looking wistfully at the shot-gun; "and
I've a big mind to give those lazy fellows in there a surprise. They
spent the night out jacking, and didn't get any meat because Cyrus let
Neal do the shooting, and he bungled it. It's my turn next to go after
deer, but I'm not going to wait for that."