he expert--
there is always an expert in camp--is deputed to cook them. He accepts
the trust and proceeds to do it. He puts a quart of dry beans and a
liberal chunk of pork in a two-quart kettle, covers the mess with water
and brings it to a rapid boil. Presently the beans begin to swell and
lift the lid of the kettle: their conduct is simply demoniacal. They
lift up the lid of the kettle, they tumble out over the rim in a way to
provoke a saint, and they have scarcely begun to cook. The expert is
not to be beaten. As they rise, he spoons them out and throws them
away, until half of the best beans being wasted, the rest settle to
business. He fills the kettle with water and watches it for an hour.
When bean-skins and scum arise he uses the spoon; and when a ring of
greasy salt forms around the rim of the kettle, he carefully scrapes it
off, but most of it drops back into the pot, When the beans seem cooked
to the point of disintegration, he lifts off the kettle and announces
dinner. It is not a success. The largest beans are granulated rather
than cooked, while the mealy portion of them has fallen to the bottom
of the kettle and become scorched thereon, and the smaller beans are
too hard to be eatable. The liquid, that should be palatable bean soup,
is greasy salt water, and the pork is half raw. The party falls back,
hungry and disgusted. Even if the mess were well cooked, it is too
salty for eating. And why should this be so? Why should any sensible
man spend years in acquiring an education that shall fit him for the
struggle of life, yet refuse to spend a single day in learning how to
cook the food that must sustain the life? It is one of the conundrums
no one will ever find out.

There is no article of food more easily carried, and none that
contains more nourishment to the pound, than the bean. Limas are
usually preferred, but the large white marrow is just as good. It will
pay to select them carefully. Keep an eye on grocery stocks and when
you strike a lot of extra large, clean beans, buy twice as many as you
need for camp use. Spread them on a table, a quart at a time and
separate the largest and best from the others. Fully one-half will go
to the side of the largest and finest, and these may be put in a muslin
bag and kept till wanted. Select the expeditionary pork with equal
care, buying nothing but thick, solid, "clear," with a pink tinge.
Reject that which is white and lardy. With such material, if you canno