anny Grin started in to move a small pile
of bricks. Next a tub of mixed mortar was carried to the level
spot decided upon as the place whereon to erect the "furnace."

It was not much of a stove that Dave and Dan built, yet it was
fitted and destined for the preparing of many a meal in record
time. First of all, Dave marked off the space to be used. Four
parallel lines of bricks, each line five bricks long, were laid
on the ground. Dave, with a two-foot rule, measured a distance
of sixteen inches between each row. Then began some amateur
brick-laying. It was not perfectly done, by any means, yet these
four parallel walls of brick that were presently up afforded three
"stoves" lying side by side. As soon as the mortar was reasonably
dried---and fire would help---grates and pieces of sheet iron could
be laid across the tops of the walls over the three fires. It was
one of the simplest and most effective cooking devices that such a
camp could have. There was even a gas-stove oven, an old one,
furnished by Dick's mother.

"It makes me hungry to look at the stove," declared Danny Grin.

"It's four o'clock now, so you'll have two hours more to wait,"
smiled Dick, as he glanced at his watch.

Out of packing cases and some odds and ends of lumber Dick and
Greg had constructed some very fair cupboards, with doors.

"Oh, if we only had ice for use in this hot weather!" sighed Greg.

"But we haven't," returned Dick, "so what's the use of thinking
of it."

In the tent Tom and Harry were putting in some of the last taps
of the hammer. They had made a very creditable job of the flooring.
It was now five o'clock. Dick & Co. had worked so briskly that
they were now somewhat tired.

It had been an exciting day. They had left Gridley in the forenoon,
journeying for an hour and a half on the train. Arriving at Porter
the boys had eaten luncheons brought along with them. Then they
had hunted up a farmer, had bargained with him to haul their stuff
and then had tramped out to their camping place.

But the camp looked as though bound to prove a success. It was
their camp, anyway, and they were happy.

"I'm glad enough of one thing," murmured Dick as he rested, mopping
his brow.

"I'm glad of several things I can think of," rejoined Darry.

"The thing I refer to," chuckled Prescott, "is Fred Ripley."

"It never occurred to me to feel glad about Ripley," muttered
Tom dryly.

"I mean, I'm glad that he has gone