n sight.

"Dan! Oh, Dan!" Dave shouted.

"Where is that grinning monkey of a football player?" demanded
Tom in disgust. "Did any of you fellows see him go away from
camp?"

It turned out that none of them had.

"It isn't like Dalzell to run away from his share of the work,
either," added Greg Holmes.

"If he won't stay and do his share toward getting supper, then
he ought to be passed up at table," grumbled Darrin.

"Before we pass sentence," proposed Dick, "won't it be better
to wait and find out whether he's guilty of shirking this time?"

"I suppose it would be better," Darrin admitted.

So the boys continued their preparations.

"What shall we have for the main thing to eat to-night?" Dick
inquired, after supper preparations were well under way.

"Canned corned beef?" suggested Greg.

"That would be about as good as anything," Tom nodded. "It means
two salted meats in one day, but this country is well supplied
with water."

"We can't ask Danny Grin's preference this evening," Dick laughed.
"I wonder what Dan would like, anyway?"

"Who's taking my name in vain?" demanded a laughing voice, as
Dalzell appeared between the trees.

"Oh, you-----"

"Shirk!" Reade had been about to add, when Danny held up a fat
string of fish. These were horned-pouts, sometimes called "bull-heads."

"How many?" asked Dick promptly.

"Nineteen---one for every mile we made in getting close to the
creek," Dan rejoined.

"Great!" cried Greg. "We haven't had any fish, either, since
we returned from our trip to the second lake."

"How do you cook bull-heads?" Dave wondered aloud.

"With the aid of fire," Hazy informed him with an air of superior
knowledge.

"But I mean---I mean------" uttered Darry disgustedly, "how do
you prepare bull-heads for cooking?"

"First of all, you clean 'em, as in the case of any other fish,"
proclaimed Tom Reade. "I defy any fellow to dispute me on that
point."

"And then you wet the bull-head and roll him in corn meal, next
dropping him into the pan and frying him to a fine brown," Dick
supplemented.

"But we haven't any corn meal," objected Hazy.

"Yes, we have," Prescott corrected. "I saw to that last night.
You fellows jump in and clean these fish, fast, while I get out
the corn meal and put a pan on the fire."

These boys knew much more about cooking than falls to most boys
in their teens. Frequent camping since their good old days in
Central Grammar School had made