Bart Keene's Hunting Days Part 25

"Yes, I brought all the materials along. We're going to have a regular plum pudding for Christmas!"

"Then I'm coming," promised William. "I'll get along now, and hurry on to the lumber camp. I'll ask the boss for a few days off, so I can get here Sat.u.r.day, and stay over until the next Wednesday, which will be the day after Christmas."

They voted that plan a good one, and soon afterward William was tramping back through the woods, having promised to be on hand at the time specified.

The chums felt no ill effects from their night in the woods, for they followed Bart's advice and took plenty of hot ginger tea, made from the materials Alice had supplied.

The next few days were busy ones for the campers. They made some improvements about the tents, arranged an extra bed for William, and brought in a good supply of wood, which was put under shelter. Bart went hunting several times, and did manage to get a buck, but it was smaller than the one he had chased. Several rabbits, a number of partridges, and some wild turkeys were shot, which, together with the supplies already on hand, promised an abundance for Christmas.

Fenn, meanwhile, true to his promise, was busy over the plum pudding, which, he said, would take several days to make.

"I should think it would," remarked Ned, one afternoon, when Fenn was occupied with chopping bowl and knife in the cook tent. "It's a wonder you didn't start last Fourth of July, Stumpy."

"That's all right, I know how to make this pudding," a.s.serted Fenn, with a superior air.

"He's mighty proud of it," whispered Frank to Ned, as they moved away.

"I wish we could play some joke on him."

"Maybe we can."

"I'll think of one," went on Frank, who had not yet gotten over his failure with the pancakes, for which he partly blamed Fenn.

William arrived that Sat.u.r.day afternoon, and was soon made to feel at home in the camp. He was given a spare gun, and on the Monday before Christmas, all five went for a hunt, though they did not expect to go far from camp.

They bagged some small game, and Bart made a remarkable kill of a brace of partridges, getting one each with his left and right barrels, when it seemed that both birds would escape.

"That's fine shooting, Bart," remarked William.

"Oh, Bart's a good shot," answered Ned proudly, and not at all jealous.

But before long Bart was destined to make a more remarkable shot than that.

As the boys had said there was to be practically nothing in the way of giving each other presents while in camp. Fenn, for the joke of the thing, rigged up a small Christmas tree, on which were hung pretended gifts.

"Well, let's get to bed early to-night," suggested Frank on Christmas eve.

"And get up a good appet.i.te for my plum pudding," suggested Fenn. "It's a dandy! I've got it all made, and all I have to do is to warm it, and make the sauce. It's in that box," and he pointed proudly to one in the cook tent.

Christmas was ushered in with a snow storm, which made the woods a place of beauty. It was not very cold, and the boys, jumping from their beds, wished each other the joys of the season.

Most of the work of getting ready the dinner had been done the day previous, so there was little work Christmas morning. They went hunting, but did not see anything to shoot, and, in fact they did not need anything, as the larder was well stocked.

"Now," ordered Fenn, on their return, "get a move on, fellows. Get the table set, and I'll look after the other things," for the turkey and some partridges had been partly cooked the day previous, and needed only a final turn in the oven. Several dainties had been brought from home, in antic.i.p.ation of this feast, and they were now set out.

Such a dinner as it was! Eaten in the midst of a silent wilderness, with the keen sharp air of winter all about, the boys had appet.i.tes that would have been the envy and despair of a person troubled with dyspepsia.

"Well, have you had enough, fellows?" asked Fenn, as he stood over the platters of turkey and partridge.

"Too much," groaned Bart.

"I hope you have room for the pudding," spoke Fenn, anxiously. "Don't say you can't eat some of my plum pudding! Why I have a regular sauce, made from a recipe in a book, to eat on it."

"Oh, I guess we can tackle a slice," remarked William, and Fenn went proudly to the stove, where the pudding was being kept hot, and soon had it on the table, flanked by two bowls of savory sauce.

"Let me carve it," begged Ned, with a look at Frank and Bart. "I'll serve it, Fenn. You've done enough."

"All right," agreed the manufacturer of the pudding.

Ned carefully inserted a knife in the smoking heap on the plate. Fenn looked proudly on, as a generous piece was pa.s.sed to William, as the guest of the day. Then Bart and Frank were served. The latter gave a sudden outcry.

"I say, Fenn!" he demanded. "Is this a joke, or what? I thought you were going to give us plum pudding!"

"So I am. What's that on your plate?"

"I don't know what it is," declared Frank, indignantly, "only I know it isn't plum pudding. It looks like dough, but it's got the queerest collection of plums in it that I ever saw. Look, here's a piece of rubber boot, part of a shoe, some pine cones, some sticks of wood, stones, part of a rope, some bra.s.s cartridges and some flannel bandages.

Plum pudding! Take a look," and Frank pa.s.sed to the astonished Fenn, the plate of the dubious looking mess.

CHAPTER XXIII

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW

For several seconds Fenn said nothing. He sat and gazed in blank dismay at the odd conglomeration on the plate that Frank had pa.s.sed to him. At last he asked faintly:

"Is it--is it all this--this way?"

"Mine is," declared Bart.

"And mine," added Ned, while William simply pa.s.sed up his plate for inspection.

"It's a trick! A mean trick!" burst out Fenn indignantly. "And I know who did it! Frank Roscoe, you did this to get even with us for my mistake about putting soap powder in the cocoanut box, so that it got into the pancakes! But that wasn't my fault."

"You had no right to take the cocoanut out of a box, and put soap powder in without telling a fellow," replied Frank. "If it hadn't been for that my cakes would have been a success, and I suppose if you'd been more careful your plum pudding wouldn't have so much trash in. As it is I don't see how we can eat it," and he poked gingerly at the mess on his plate.

"Well, you fellows may call this a joke, but I don't!" burst out Fenn, now angry in earnest, and he started to leave the table.

"Hold on, old chap. Wait a minute," advised Bart, soothingly. "I guess it's gone far enough. William, just hand out the other pudding, will you?"

The visitor, with a grin, took a covered dish from behind the stove, where it had been set to keep warm. He lifted off the cover, and displayed to the astonished Fenn the original plum pudding, smelling most delicious, and smoking hot.

"Try some of this," said Ned. "Maybe it will be better."

"But I--what--where--what makes--is it----" stammered Fenn, and then his chums burst into a laugh.

"Yes, it's the original pudding," explained Frank. "We just wanted to have a little fun with you, that's all. We hid away the pudding you made, and, at the last minute, subst.i.tuted one of our own that contained all the odds and ends we could pick up in camp, held together with a lot of dough. I guess we can throw it away now, and eat the real thing," and he emptied his plate, and those of his companions, of the dubious mess, and dished out some of the real plum pudding.