y prepared his fire and had found a suitable kettle.

From watching the pudding game, Tom strolled through to the two
fires in the clearing.

"This begins to look like a fine chance to eat," sighed Tom full
of contentment.

"Doing anything, Reade?" inquired the cattle owner, who had quickly
learned all their names.

"No, sir."

"Then suppose you take this heart of the cow over to your camp.
Put it on the fire in a kettle of salted water, and let it boil
slowly. By that means you will be able to serve up the heart
for your evening meal."

"Is there no end to this cow?" gasped Tom.

"Well, a good-sized cow provides several hundred pounds of meat,"
replied Mr. Ross. "Oh, what a shame that you boys have no ice,
and no way of getting it or keeping it! I could fix you for a
month's supply of meat!"

"Dick, do you remember what we came out here in the woods for?"
queried Tom.

"To camp, and have a good time," Prescott laughed. "And, so far,
we win. We're having a bully time!"

"What else did we come out here for?"

"To harden and train ourselves so that we can make a hard try
for the Gridley High School football eleven this fall."

"Will a week of training table undo the harm of to-day's big feasts?"
groaned Reade.

"No fellow is obliged to make a glutton of himself," retorted
Dick.

"Maybe not," quoth Tom, "but everyone of us will be sorely tempted.
You ought to see that pudding that Jim Hornby is putting up."

"Young man, are you going to get that heart to cooking before
it goes bad in the sun?" asked Mr. Ross sharply.

Tom meekly turned and started toward camp.

"What's Greg doing?" Dick called after him.

"Holmesy is watching, learning the way Jim Hornby puts up a boiled
pudding," Reade called back.

Honk! honk! sounded an automobile horn from the rough trail
of a roadway an eighth of a mile away. The honking continued
until Dick, realizing that it was a signal, gave a loud halloo.

"Is that Prescott's camp?" called a voice.

"It's the camp of Prescott and his friends," Dick shouted back.

"Get ready for visitors, then!" called the voice again, and this
time Dick recognized the voice as that of Dr. Bentley.

"We won't eat you out of supplies, though," called the doctor,
now heading through the forest. "We're bringing with us our own
cold lunch."

"Cold lunch!" Dick chuckled back. "You won't be able to eat it
after you see what we have!"

Through the trees now the fluttering of s