strain this morning? Benson promised to have something for us.
They're only plain country folks, you know, so don't expect much
style, fellows."

"Style!" exclaimed Ralph, with a snort, "do I look like I could
put on a heap, with these mussed-up trousers? All I ask is a
chance to wash my hands and face. But it was mighty good of you
thinking of the grub part, Bones."

"I don't see how. I always eat with Benson when I come up here for
a shoot. It was only a case of selfishness. Say, this is something
of a load--four apiece all around, and they're heavy chaps, too.
This one is so fat he actually burst when he fell."

"But I have no use of any game. Perhaps you'd better give the
farmer my share, for his kindness," suggested Ralph.

"That's nice of you, old fellow. And I'll take you up on it, too.
Benson has no time to shoot, and I don't believe he knows how; but
all the same he does like a taste of game, to sort of change the
bill of fare. Follow me, now, for the house."

Bones led the way, and presently they arrived at the farmhouse, a
low-roofed building, where light gleamed cheerily in the small
windows. Benson had a wife and several small children. The table
was set, country fashion, right at one end of the big kitchen, and
the odors that greeted the hungry and cold boys as they entered
certainly promised an appetizing repast.

Ralph was soon made happy with a tin basin and a bucket of water.