'That's a baker's van,' said Dick. 'Let's tun on and catch it. If we can get a loaf, we shall be set up, and can break our march where we like.' 'Righto,' said the Raven; 'the flour's all gone.' And the scouts ran forward. They caught the van at the crossroads, and bought a threepenny loaf. Dick entered the purchase in his notebook; they had now spent two shillings and a penny three-farthings, and had plenty of food in hand for their fourth day. From this point on they surveyed the country with a single idea--the finding of a good spot for a camp. They had now reached the border of the moor, and the land was studded by woods, coppices, and coverts. Pheasants flew across their path, and rabbits ambled about in every direction; for evening was coming on, and the bunnies were swarming from their burrows. 'Sportin' country, this,' observed Chippy; and Dick agreed. Suddenly the boys came on a little brook, and both said, 'Here we are,' for they knew that somewhere along the brook there would be a spot to suit them. They left the road, and followed the little stream for three or four hundred yards, and then pulled up at a smooth grassy patch on the sunny side of a pine-wood. In the evening light the great tall red trees stood up quiet and splendid, and the scouts knew that their dark depths would make a happy hunting-ground for firewood and bedding. They started their fire, and collected a huge pile of dried sticks with which to feed it. They gathered armfuls of pine-tips from the lower branches, but could find no logs for a framework; so they made the bed much broader, and worked in some strong dried branches at the side, and hoped the plan would answer well. They tested it by rolling on the bed, and all seemed firm and steady. Then, with ravening appetites, they turned to preparations for supper. Bread and tea were easy enough to prepare, but how were they going to cook the eels? Chippy had been enthusiastic over the delicious richness of fried eels, and there was the billy to fry them in, but what were they going to do for grease? 'A bit o' lard, now,' murmured Chippy. 'Wait a bit,' said Dick. 'I'll put you right, cook.' He opened his haversack, and took out a small tin box. 'Here you are,' said Dick. 'Mutton fat. I boiled it down myself. Grand stuff to rub on your feet if you get a sore place, but we haven't wanted it yet.' 'No, we ain't tenderfeet,' grunted the Raven. 'Hope not,' said Dick. He opened the box and smelled the contents. 'Has it gone bad?' asked his companion. 'Not a bit of it,' replied the Wolf; 'sweet as a nut. Here's a lump for your pan.' And he dug out a piece of the solid mutton fat with his knife.