"You might as well halt your wood cutters, unless you want their product for your own camp," suggested the cattle owner, and Prescott sent the word to stop chopping. Within twenty minutes the big wagon, drawn by a pair of mules, came up with Bill Hopple driving and his horse tied to the tailboard. With a speed and skill born of long practice, Mr. Ross began to cut up the carcass of the cow. Bill was busy making greenwood spits and arranging them over the two fires, Dan and Harry helping him. Almost at a dead run came Greg Holmes through the woods, with two quarts of blueberries. Over at the camp, as soon as he saw the berries, Jim Hornby began mixing his pudding batter. He had already prepared his fire and had found a suitable kettle. From watching the pudding game, Tom strolled through to the two fires in the clearing. "This begins to look like a fine chance to eat," sighed Tom full of contentment. "Doing anything, Reade?" inquired the cattle owner, who had quickly learned all their names. "No, sir." "Then suppose you take this heart of the cow over to your camp. Put it on the fire in a kettle of salted water, and let it boil slowly. By that means you will be able to serve up the heart for your evening meal." "Is there no end to this cow?" gasped Tom. "Well, a good-sized cow provides several hundred pounds of meat," replied Mr. Ross. "Oh, what a shame that you boys have no ice, and no way of getting it or keeping it! I could fix you for a month's supply of meat!" "Dick, do you remember what we came out here in the woods for?" queried Tom. "To camp, and have a good time," Prescott laughed. "And, so far, we win. We're having a bully time!" "What else did we come out here for?" "To harden and train ourselves so that we can make a hard try for the Gridley High School football eleven this fall." "Will a week of training table undo the harm of to-day's big feasts?" groaned Reade. "No fellow is obliged to make a glutton of himself," retorted Dick. "Maybe not," quoth Tom, "but everyone of us will be sorely tempted. You ought to see that pudding that Jim Hornby is putting up." "Young man, are you going to get that heart to cooking before it goes bad in the sun?" asked Mr. Ross sharply. Tom meekly turned and started toward camp. "What's Greg doing?" Dick called after him. "Holmesy is watching, learning the way Jim Hornby puts up a boiled pudding," Reade called back. Honk! honk! sounded an automobile horn from the rough trail of a roadway an eighth of a mile away. The honking continued until Dick, realizing that it was a signal, gave a loud halloo. "Is that Prescott's camp?" called a voice. "It's the camp of Prescott and his friends," Dick shouted back. "Get ready for visitors, then!" called the voice again, and this time Dick recognized the voice as that of Dr. Bentley. "We won't eat you out of supplies, though," called the doctor, now heading through the forest. "We're bringing with us our own cold lunch."