Alison strolled forward and joined the group about the fire.
"It will be a couple of hours yet before the boys turn up; and, considering everything, it's just as well," Thorne was explaining. "Still, the bread ought to be ready, and I'd be glad if somebody would get it out to cool. I want the oven for the chickens."
"Where are they?" Mrs. Farquhar inquired.
Thorne suddenly stooped over the big coal-oil can.
"I was almost forgetting them; they're here. Dave should have fished them out some time ago."
Alison glanced into the improvised cauldron and saw to her astonishment what looked like a mass of bedraggled fowls.
"Oh," she cried, "have you boiled them with their feathers on?"
"Well," replied Thorne, somewhat ruefully, "I certainly didn't mean to. In fact, I put them in to bring their feathers off, though I've hitherto generally done it beneath the blow-down valve of a thrashing engine."
The lad did it with a strip of shingle, and when a number of dripping birds were strewed upon the grass Alison was more astonished still.
"Where have their heads gone?" she exclaimed.
"I'll leave Dave to tell you that; I believe it's his first attempt at dressing fowls," chuckled Thorne. "I just sent his employer word that I wanted chickens, and this is how they were brought."
"Jackson drove off as soon as he'd told Stepney and me to get them," he explained. "We're both of us just out from Toronto, and we didn't know how to set about the thing." He paused and looked at Alison. "I don't mind admitting that neither of us enjoyed it, but it had to be done."
"I must add that he told me he made Stepney use the ax," laughed Thorne.
"I had to hold them, anyway--and that wasn't very much better," retorted the lad.
"You'll have to pluck; I dare say Mrs. Farquhar and Miss Leigh will get out the bread and what crockery there is. The boys will probably bring some plates and things along with them; that is, if they're wise."
He moved away and Alison sat down on the grass and laughed.
"I believe he can cook better than I can, but he's primitive in some respects," she commented. "Shall we all have to use the same things if the boys don't bring the cups?"
"Oh, no," Mrs. Farquhar assured her. "He'll no doubt provide a few old fruit cans. Anyway, you must not expect too much of him. He has been working his fingers off for the last six weeks, and as there has been moonlight lately it's very probable that he has cut himself down to an hour or two's sleep. Perhaps you haven't noticed that it shows on him."