"
"The tea also?"
"Yes. The whole business. Neither have we any butter or lard. We
shall have to cook the beans in themselves and eat them without
seasoning."
"Cook the bacon with them. That will furnish the salt," suggested
Stacy.
"Large head," laughed Ned. "I'll do it. Go fetch me some water."
Stacy hurried away whistling, and in a few minutes returned with his
sombrero filled with clear, cool mountain water.
"Here, here! What do you mean? Think we want to drink out of that
old hat?" jeered Ned. "Get a pail; what ails you?"
"Nothing ails me. It's the pail you want to find fault with--not with
me."
"What do you mean?"
"The pail's down at the bottom of the mountain with Tad," grinned
Stacy.
"That's one on me," laughed Ned. "Very well, go wash the hat
thoroughly. I suppose we shall have to use it for a water pail. A
good scrubbing won't do it any harm, at that."
"I did wash it," replied Stacy. "Think I'd bring you water in it
without doing so?"
"All right, put it down," said Ned, turning away.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"If I put the hat down the water will all run out over the top."
"Then stand there and hold it till we get through supper," growled
Ned, turning to the fire where the bacon was frying in the pan of
beans.
Stacy eyed him questioningly for a few seconds, and then with an
exclamation poured the water on the ground, jamming the wet, dripping
sombrero down over his head.
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