the other side of the fire, where he watched the supper preparations
out of the corners of his eyes.

"Serve you right if we didn't give you any supper," commented Ned.

"I'll set the table if you will agree not to find fault with the way I
do it," offered the boy.

"Go ahead. I'll promise."

Stacy flirted the table cloth in the air, and after walking around
several times, succeeded in smoothing it out. He could find only two
spoons in their kit, and no knives and forks.

The boy pondered deeply for a moment, then hurried off into the brush,
returning shortly, stuffing something in his inside coat pocket.

"Grub pi-i-i-lee!" announced the cook.

"Hey, Tad, supper's ready," shouted Ned, peering over the cliff.

"All right," came back the answer. "I'm eating mine now. I've got
corned beef and--"

"And what? It must be something pretty good."

"It is. What would you say to canned peaches?"

"Canned peaches! Now, fellows, what do you think of that? I didn't
know there were any in the pack," mourned Ned.