Scott’s homesickness vanished with the fancied smoke of the promised campfires. He had never really camped and the prospect of a Thanksgiving dinner in camp was very attractive. He hurried out to borrow a pack sack from Manning, and eagerly put in all his spare time the next day in minor preparations. He was tremendously excited, but did not know exactly what to do. Greenleaf was no less excited over his unexpected holiday, but went about the preparations of his kit with the thoroughness of an old prospector. Ormand and Morgan came in the evening to discuss the final plans and hold a consultation over the equipment. They had left the purchasing of the supplies to Greenleaf. Ormand lounged on the bed and Morgan lay comfortably back in the easy chair, while Greenleaf, pencil in hand, read over the list of supplies. Scott felt his helplessness on such an occasion, and sat quietly back in a corner to listen.
“I’ve figured out the supplies for the whole trip,” Greenleaf began, “but I thought we could get just half of it now and stock again at Red Wing.”
“Sure,” Morgan assented. “No use in our carrying any more than we have to. Some of it we might as well get all at once, but we can restock on the heavy stuff.”
“Let’s hear the list,” Ormand grunted from the bed.
“Twelve pounds of flour,” Greenleaf started.
“Cut it out,” came in a chorus from the others.
“We’re not running a logging camp in the backwoods,” Morgan objected. “We can carry bread and save piles of trouble.”
“Well, if you’re really going to camp,” Greenleaf contended, “you ought to cook everything you need.”
“Fudge,” Ormand cried. “We are going out for pleasure, not to see how much work we can do. That would be a freshman trick.”
Greenleaf, overruled but entirely unabashed, proceeded with the list. “Eight pounds of bacon, two of oatmeal; two of sugar; six pints of condensed milk; two quarts of beans.”
“Eight cans,” Morgan corrected, “but it would be great fun to have a bean hole if you would run ahead—half a day to start the fire.”
“Right you are,” Greenleaf conceded. “I forgot that we did not have a cook and a pack mule. Two pounds of butter, one of salt, a quarter-pound of tea. How is that for grub? Oh, yes, twelve loaves of bread for Morgan to tote.”