You'd better get busy."
"Just as you say," answered Bart good-naturedly. "I'm willing to do
my share."
He got a shovel and began digging the trench. Ned was busy with the
lanterns, and seeing that the guy ropes were tight, while Frank looked
after putting the folding cots up, and getting out the blankets. In a
short time the camp was in fair shape, and Fenn announced that supper
was ready.
In the cool of the evening, after the meal, they sat about the tent,
before the campfire, and felt very well satisfied with the place.
"To-morrow we'll take our guns and take a tramp through the woods," said
Bart. "I don't s'pose there's anything much to shoot, but we may get a
chance at a hawk or something."
"Hawks aren't good to eat," remarked Fenn.
"Who said they were? Just because you're cook you needn't think every
time we take our guns we're going out to stock up the pantry. We'll kill
the hawks and save the farmers' chickens. They'll appreciate that."
"I don't believe there's a farmer within two miles of here," commented
Ned. "We're quite a way from civilization. It's five miles to Lockport,
the nearest town.
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