The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 40: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

222 any great experience in camping, but the first thing—”’ “Ts to cook a meal!” escaped Hapworthy. “You have guessed it,” said Farnham. “Who is the official cook of the party?” Again there was dead silence! “T think Jack was going to cook,” Jane suggested. ‘‘Aren’t you an expert camp cook? Mr. Farnham.” “I’m not, or any other kind!” Farnham admitted. ‘“Can’t you cook?” “YT can boil eggs,” Jane said: sadly. “That’s all.” “Then Mrs.—” “Not I!” Aunt Hettie broke in promptly. “The very sight of cooking sickens me!” “T was going to suggest Mrs. Hap- worthy?” Farnham pursued, and a note of real anxiety crept into his voice. That lady laughed drearily. “I’ve wanted to learn, time and again,” said she. ‘James never would permit it.” “Then Cragg, perhaps?” the large young man asked desperately. “Where would I learn to cook?” that sim- ple soul demanded. ‘“‘I been working since I was ten. I can’t cook or—listen! "Don't we eat?” This time Mr. Farnham’s voice was all anxiety. “I’m beginning to think,” said he, “that we do not.” CHAPTER VII. TERRORS OF THE NIGHT. CHORUS of tremulous sighs came from the black depths of Jane’s car. The chorus merged with the soughing of the branches overhead and died out again—and from the most unexpected quarter a trumpet of hope blared out! “Tf you’d let me try?” Mary Callum asked brightly. “Can you cook?” Mr. Farnham gasped. “Well, I think so,” replied Mary, and pardonable pride struggled hard with innate modesty in her tone. “I have taken three different courses in domestic science; mother believes in that sort of thing and so do I. And at home I make lots and lots of things that father likes.” A vast sigh of relief came from Mr. Farnham. “We know him for a strong and well- nourished man,” said he. “Bless you! Tell us what you want and where you want it THE ARGOSY. put and how many of what else you want after that?” Mary stepped down. In the light from the car they noted that her too subdued countenance was really glowing. Thus does a single touch upon its own particular pen- chant arouse the most dormant soul to ac- tivity. ‘“Why, Ill have the stove set up first, of course. Because there is a stove, isn’t there. And then the eggs and the butter, sugar, flour, pepper, salt, cinnamon, flavor- - ing extracts and so on. Worcestershire, if there is some, and the tomato catsup, too— I know one lovely thing you flavor with tomato catsup. What kind of fresh meat have we?” “T’m afraid that bacon is the freshest thing,” said Mr. Farnham. “Oh! And I’m so much better on roast- ing turkey and chicken,” Mary murmured disappointedly. ‘‘However, if you’ll have the man unpack, I can make bacon do beautifully. And I want three frying-pans and—let me see? You don’t know whether we have copper or aluminum pots? I need five of them, anyway, and the coffee-pot and the tea-pot and a pail of water. And Ill just think up exactly what I want to make while the man is getting them ready.” She fairly danced with enthusiasm; Mr. Farnham—and the rest as well—looking upon Mary, felt that she had gone all un- appreciated, as they stepped down to the piney floor of their clearing. The effect of her words upon Cragg was really remarkable. Flashlight in hand, the chauffeur was already at the side of the car, loosening numberless buckles and turning back neat canvas flaps, to reappear in the midst with armfuls of packages and tin cans. 7 The camp lamps were unearthed, too, and furnished less trying illumination than the headlights; and Farnham had no more than kindled them than Cragg trotted back again, with a little handful of metal and: “T guess this’ll be the stove? Huh?” “T guess it will, from the looks of it,” said Mr. Farnham. “Fill her up with gaso- line.” “But you can cook only one thing at a time on that!” Mary objected. “Yes, ma’am—one small thing,” ad- mitted their driver. ‘““‘Well—never mind,” said the domestic scientist, with quenchless good cheer. “It may take a little longer, but we'll be just GomiGcdooks (C@