"The new patent Silver Fox cooking stove," said Roy. "A scout is
resourceful. This beats trying to kindle a fire outside, a night like
this. Chuck that piece of wood over here."
There was an old battery box knocking about and this Roy whittled into
shavings, while the others with their belt axes completed the ruin of
the awning stanchions by chopping them into pieces a few inches long.
"Guess they weren't good for much," observed Tom.
"Oh," said Pee-wee, "I'd just like to live in this boat."
It was no wonder he felt so. With the fire burning brightly in the old
can and sending its smoke out through the boat's exhaust, the smell of
the bacon cooking, the sight of their outer garments drying in the
cheery warmth, while the wind howled outside and the rain beat down upon
the low roof the situation was not half bad and an occasional lurch of
the old hull gave a peculiar charm to their odd refuge.
"Could you dally with a rice cake, kiddo?" asked Roy, as he deftly
stirred up some rice and batter. "Sling me that egg powder, Tom, and
give me something to stir with--not that, you gump, that's the fever
thermometer!"
"Here's a fountain pen," said Pee-wee; "will that do?"
"This screw-driver will be better," said Roy. "Here, kiddo, make
yourself useful and keep turning that in the pan. You're a specialist on
good turns."
Pee-wee stirred, while Tom attended to the fire, and Roy to the cooking.
And I might mention on the side that if you should happen to be marooned
in a disused boat on a blustering night, and are ingenious enough (as
Roy was) to contrive the cooking facilities, you cannot do better than
flop a few rice cakes, watching carefully that they don't burn.
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