"Let's forget the money for tonight and just have fun. Mr. Hatfield's worried enough without us always reminding him of it."

"You're right," Dan agreed, properly set down. "Guess I have had it on my mind a lot lately."

The boys hiked to an old mill of historical interest. After spending a while there, they back-tracked to the marshland area.

"I wonder if that old tramp is still camped out in the new house?" Dan speculated as they pa.s.sed the construction site.

Mr. Hatfield heard the remark.

"I can answer that one," he informed the group. "I talked to Mr. Keeler, the contractor. He checked and found you boys were right."

"Then the man was a tramp?" Brad asked.

"Yes, he had managed to get in through a cellar window, and then had unlocked the door from inside. Until he was caught, he enjoyed quite a comfortable existence."

"Arrested?" Brad questioned.

"No, he slipped away before Mr. Keeler could call police. I understand no damage was done to the property. He easily could have set the place on fire though."

"Say, when do we eat?" demanded Midge, impatiently. "The sun's getting low."

"We can stop anywhere," Mr. Hatfield said. "Look for a suitable place."

"How about the one we used last time?" suggested Chips. "It will save us clearing the ground."

The other Cubs shared Chip's impatience, so a little farther on, a halt was called. While Brad and Dan built a fire, Mr. Hatfield set up a reflector oven which he had made from a square five-gallon oil can.

"Pretty fancy, aren't we?" Red said admiringly. "What are we eating?"

"Biscuits, fried eggs and bacon. How does it sound?"

"Swell!" Red answered, smacking his lips. "Just lead me to it."

"Lead you to it, like fun!" snorted Brad. "You're gonna help stir up the biscuits, not have 'em served to you golden brown on a tin plate!"

"Me? Make biscuits? I don't know how."

"You can learn," the Den Chief a.s.sured him. "Nothing to it when you use biscuit mix. You just add water and stir."

While the other Cubs gathered wood, he showed Red how to mix the biscuits and drop them evenly on a metal sheet.

"Each Cub can cook his own bacon and eggs," Brad said, producing a sheet of tinfoil. "Shape 'em into little pans, and fry the bacon just enough to make a little grease. Then drop in the eggs. You can use the crinkled foil for a plate too, and not have to wash a dish."

"What a brain! What a brain!" This praise came from Midge, who above everything else hated to wash dishes.

Soon the wood had burned down to coals. As the reflector oven heated up, Mr. Hatfield tested it, and told Red he could put in the biscuits.

"It won't be long now, boys," he said. "While we're waiting for the biscuits to bake, I wish a couple of you would go for some more water.

Try that first house down the road."

Rather than stand around, all the boys except Red took their canteens and trudged off. The latter remained with Mr. Hatfield to keep an eye on the biscuits.

"They're rising just right," the Cub leader said, presently peeking into the oven. "Another five minutes and they'll be golden brown."

"They sure smell good," Red declared, sniffing the air. "I could eat a dozen of 'em myself."

"We only allowed three for each Cub," Mr. Hatfield laughed. "The fire's burning out though. We need more wood."

The Cubs had not gathered enough. So after taking another glance at the biscuits to be certain they would not burn, Mr. Hatfield and Red set off together to find a few sticks.

Suitable wood was not to be found close to the camp. Already the Cubs had gathered this. Compelled to seek farther away, the Cub leader and Red consumed more time than they had intended in gathering sticks.

"Let's get back," Mr. Hatfield advised. "If we let those biscuits burn, the boys will mob us."

As the two returned to the campfire, they met the Cubs trotting in with their filled canteens.

"Hey!" yelled Dan. "Aren't those biscuits done yet?"

"They should be," Mr. Hatfield answered. "Start your eggs frying, boys, so everything will come off the fire at the same time. Brad will show you what to do."

"How about those biscuits?" Red said anxiously. "They've been in the oven a long time."

"Not too long," replied Mr. Hatfield. "We want 'em a nice deep brown. But I'll take a quick look."

Eager for a peek themselves, the Cubs gathered around.

Mr. Hatfield opened the oven. A blast of heat struck the Cubs full in their faces.

"Why, what happened to 'em?" Dan demanded in astonishment. "Where are those wonderful biscuits you were bragging about?"

The oven was empty. Gone were the biscuits and likewise the metal sheet upon which they had been baked!

CHAPTER 14 Beside the Camp Fire

The Cubs stared at the empty oven, uncertain whether or not Mr. Hatfield and Red had played a trick upon them.

"Hey, where are they?" Midge demanded. "Who swiped the biscuits?"

"That's what I want to know," said Mr. Hatfield.

His grim tone left no doubt that the biscuits actually were missing.

Their disappearance was as mysterious to Mr. Hatfield and Red as to the other boys.

"Why, they were here a few minutes ago!" Red exclaimed indignantly.

"Someone's swiped 'em!"