Jarvis and Ike did the cooking, at which they
were adepts.
"After pullin' a boat ten or twelve hours there's nothin' like somethin'
warm inside you to make you feel good," said Jarvis. "Ike, you lunkhead,
hurry up with that coffee pot. Me an' Harry can't wait more'n a minute
longer."
Ike grinned and hurried. A fine bed of coals had now formed, and in a
few minutes a great pot of coffee was boiling and throwing out savory
odors. Jarvis took a small flat skillet from the boat and fried the
corn cakes. Harry fried bacon and strips of dried beef in another.
The homely task in good company was most grateful to him. His face
reflected his pleasure.
"Providin' it don't rain on you, campin' out is stimulatin' to the body
an' soul," said Jarvis. "You don't know what a genuine appetite is
until you live under the blue sky by day, and a starry sky by night.
Harry, you'll find three tin plates in the locker in the boat. Fetch
'em."
Harry abandoned his skillet for a moment, and brought the plates.
Ike, the coffee now being about ready, produced three tin cups, and with
these simple preparations they began their supper. The flames went
down and the fire became a great bed of coals, glowing in the darkness,
and making a circle of light, the edges of which touched the boat.
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