ly, indeed, to prepare the meal over the strong embers of good solid
oak.

An old grate had been found about the place, and upon this the sliced
bacon was spread, while the potatoes were dropped directly into the
embers. Norah had thought of everything, even paper napkins and picnic
knives and forks. There was, too, a bottle of olives and some cold ham in
the very bottom of the basket.

"What's to drink?" asked Ned, his tone implying that anything to drink had
been forgotten.

"Oh, the jug of coffee!" exclaimed Joe. "That's in the car. I'll run and
fetch it."

The jug of coffee had been placed in a deep, enameled pan, which was to
serve as coffee-pot in the warming process.

"Well, I say!" exclaimed Roland. "Think I'll change quarters. I would like
first rate to meet your Norah."

"I'm first there," put in Tom. "I met her at the kitchen door as I went
around for the oil can. And I must say I rather like that shade of hair.
Our shortstop had it, and he claimed it was classic--called it mahogany,
too."

The bacon sizzled merrily, the potatoes smelled "brown," and soon all was
ready.

It was a queer sort of picnic--a "smoker," Tom insisted, for something
happened with the fire that caused the smoke to flare back into the cabin
instead of going peaceably out of the little chimney. But the boys did not
mind that--they were too interested in the meal. Even Norah's good nature
could scarcely estimate on a dinner of this kind. Eating seemed to cause
hunger, instead of allaying the sensation.

But when everything was really gone, and each boy knew it was not possible
to get another crumb, each declared he had had plenty.

Certainly it was jolly, but when Ned glanced at his watch and discovered
that the noon hour had long since passed, he hurried his companions along.

"Look here," he reminded them, "we are out for evergreens. This is not a
food-grabbing affair. Let's get back to the car. I don't see a blade of
green around here."

"Nary a sprig," declared Tom, looking over the woodland. "Well, I suppose
we will have to leave this retreat. But I hope we find it next summer.
Wouldn't it be a great place to camp?"

All agreed the spot would be ideal for a summer camp, and when they had
entered the Fire Bird and swung again out upon the wagon road, some of the
party rather blamed the kind of holiday that required greens, when such a
fine day might have been spent in the woodchopper's cabin.

CHAPTER XII

TH