"Better pick that up and dump it
on the fireplace. Isn't this great, though? Glad I came! Fellows, help
yourselves," and he stretched out on a rude board bench that lined one
side of the place.

"Get up!" insisted Tom. "Do you suppose for one instant that you do not
have to work? I assign you to the task of striking the matches."

It occurred to Roger that some boys, big ones at that, might be just as
silly as girls--in fact, more silly than most girls, for when they said
foolish things they invariably took the trouble to laugh at their own
attempts. Now, thought Roger, girls never do that. Close upon the heels of
that thought sprang into the little fellow's heart the wish that Dorothy
might have been along. She would know just how to arrange the dinner so
that the big fellows did not get the best pieces.

Nat had already begun at his task--he was striking matches furiously by
the old stone fireplace, watching the dry leaves blaze up and then die out
quickly.

"Here, quit!" called Roland. "Do you think we fellows are lined with
matches? We really might want one for the fire, you know."

"Oh, certainly," assented Nat, discontinuing his pastime. "I was just
trying the flue."

"But I say, fellows," remarked Tom seriously, "isn't this great? What do
you suppose the place stands for?"

"A woodchopper's cabin," Ned replied. "There was fine wood in these parts
some years ago, before the telephone company bought up all the tall trees.
Uncle Frank--Major Dale, you know--was telling us only the other night
about it. Some ten years ago a telephone inspector came out here and
bargained for the whole grove--that is, all the good, sound trees. Then
the woodchoppers went back to Canada."

"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
jol