"Glad they left their hut, at any rate," remarked Tom, tossing an armful
of dry wood on to the stone hearth. "What do we cook?"

"Bacon, potatoes, cheese to toast, and--let me see. What else?" queried
Nat, rummaging through the basket of supplies.

"Bread and butter, pepper and salt, and a whole cake," announced Roger
with unconcealed glee.

"I guess that'll do," drawled Tom. "Sorry we didn't think to fetch
something ourselves."

"Oh, this is my treat," replied Nat.

"It was I who thought about the lunch," Roger reminded him.

"That's right, kid, you did. But then, you are always hungry, which may,
in a measure, account for your wonderful forethought."

The blazing fire had by this time warmed the place comfortably, and it was
jolly, indeed, to prepare the meal over the strong embers of good solid
oak.

An old grate had been found about the place, and upon this the sliced
bacon was spread, while the potatoes were dropped directly into the
embers. Norah had thought of everything, even paper napkins and picnic
knives and forks. There was, too, a bottle of olives and some cold ham in
the very bottom of the basket.

"What's to drink?" asked Ned, his tone implying that anything to drink had