“Soup, corned roast beef, potato chips, bread, butter, jam, condensed milk and coffee,” rattled off Dick. “I’ll take it all!” came from Bert. “Same here!” chorused the other two, and soon the lads were passing around the food. “Say, this is all right,” declared Tom, as he tasted the mock-turtle soup. They had brought along several cases of canned goods, soup among them. “It’s easy to make,” explained Dick. “All you do is to open the can, chuck in some hot water, heat the mixture for a few minutes, and your soup is made.” “How about the roast beef?” asked Bert. “I--er--I boiled that,” explained Dick calmly. “Boiled it!” cried Tom. “Boiled roast beef! Oh wow!” “What difference does it make, as long as it’s hot?” demanded the young cook. “Here, you taste it, and see if it isn’t good. I put some ketchup on it, and a lot of spices, and it tastes----” “It must taste like a mixture of Hungarian goulash and Chinese chop-suey!” laughed Tom. “Boiled roast beef! Oh my stars!” “Well, you don’t have to eat it,” fired back Dick, as he dished out a curious mixture. The boys tasted it, and to their surprise it was very good, or perhaps their appetites made it seem so. Then with bread, jam and coffee the meal progressed, and they all declared it a good one. “Now for finishing up the tents, and getting ready for the night,” suggested Tom. The cooking tent was put up, with an awning connecting it with the sleeping quarters, and with a table that was made of pieces of packing boxes. They had folding cots, and these were set up, and the bed clothes gotten out. Then each one picked his cot, arranged his personal belongings near or under it, and the camp was in fairly good shape. “And now to begin to enjoy ourselves,” said Tom. “If only the old hermit doesn’t come puttering around to bother us,” suggested Jack. “Bur--r--r--r! When I think of the fierce way he started after us it gives me a cold shiver.” “He was sort of uncanny,” agreed Bert. “But I guess he won’t bother us. I don’t know what the rest of you are going to do, but I’m going fishing. I think some nice fresh fish would be pretty nearly as good as boiled roast beef. Oh, wait until I tell the fellows about that!” he laughed. “We’ll have to have it at one of our midnight suppers in Elmwood Hall.” “That’s right,” agreed Tom. “But don’t you let ’em worry you, Dick. You’re doing fine.” “They can’t worry me,” declared Tom’s country chum. “I can do queerer stunts in cooking than that. You just wait.” “Well, if we’re going fishing let’s go,” suggested Jack. The boys had brought their rods and tackle with them, and soon they had dug some worms, caught a few grasshoppers, and were casting in from some rocks and logs on the shore of the lake. They had been fishing for perhaps half an hour, and no one had had more than some nibbles, when Jack, who was perched on a high rock, close to deep water, suddenly felt a jerk on his line.