at they had selected the only spot where they could have a bed of
sand to sleep on.

This important business being settled, supper was the next subject of
attention.

"We haven't been as regular about our meals as we ought to be," said
Harry, "but it hasn't been our fault. We'll have a good supper to-night,
at any rate. How would you like some hot turtle soup?"

"Just the thing," said Joe. "The bread is beginning to get a little dry;
but we can soak it in the soup."

"About going for milk," continued Harry; "we ought to arrange that and
the other regular duties. Suppose after this we take turns. One fellow
can pitch the tent, another can go for milk, another can get the
fire-wood, and the other can cook. We can arrange it according to
alphabetical order. For instance, Tom Schuyler pitches the tent
to-night, Jim Sharpe goes for milk, Joe gets the fire-wood, and I cook.
The next time we camp, Jim will pitch the tent, Joe will get the milk, I
will get the wood, and Tom will cook. Is that fair?"

The boys said it was, and they agreed to adopt Harry's proposal. Jim
went off with the milk pail, and when the fire was ready, Harry took a
can of soup and put it on the coals to be heated.

Jim found a house quite near at hand, where he bought two quarts of milk
and a loaf of bread, and was back again at the camp before the soup was
ready. He found the boys lying near the fire, waiting for the soup to
heat and the coffee to boil.

"That soup takes a long time to heat through," said Tom. "There isn't a
bit of steam coming out of it yet."

"How can any steam come out of it when it's soldered up tight?" replied
Harry.

"You don't mean to tell me that you've put the can on the fire without
punching a hole in the top?"

"Of course I have. What on earth should I punch a hole in it for?"

"Because--" cried Tom, hastily springing up.

But he was interrupted by a report like that of a small cannon: a cloud
of ashes rose over the fire, and a shower of soup fell just where Tom
had been lying.

"That's the reason why," resumed Tom. "The steam has burst the can, and
the soup has gone up."

"We've got another can," said Harry, "and we'll punch a hole in that
one. What an idiot I was not to think of its bursting! It's a good thing
that it didn't hurt us. I should hate to have the newspapers say that we
had been blown up and awfully mangled by soup."

The other can of soup was safely heated, and the boys made a comfortable
sup