AN EXPERIMENT WITH FLAPJACKS.

A wild yell of terror burst from the lips of the horrified Dutch boy, who flung himself backward upon the flat rock, kicking, flopping and clawing at the slippery, clinging root.

“Eels!” he yelled chokingly. “Hellup! Took him off quervick! Safe me, pefore I vas dead already!”

The spectators were convulsed with laughter, and Springer, clinging to his sides, collapsed upon the ground.

“Oh! oh!” gasped Phil. “Did you ever see anything so funny? It will kill me!”

“It vill kill me uf you don’t took him avay!” screamed Carl, tearing frantically at the entwined root, his eyes seeming ready to pop from his head. “An eel hass got me! Hellup!”

Even Stone was shaken by laughter.

“Vot vas der matter?” wailed the floundering Dutch boy. “Vhy didt you not assistance gif me? Pimepy I vill pite dot eel, undt it vill poison me!”

After a time he succeeded in tearing the root away and flinging it aside, following which he rolled over and over to escape from the thing he feared so much. The whole affair was intensely ludicrous.

Trembling and panting, Carl got upon his feet and ran a short distance, only to trip and fall with a crash that brought a puffing grunt from his lips.

“It seems too bad,” said Stone; “but, still, I can’t help laughing.”

“Oh, yah!” raged the frightened lad, sitting up and glaring at Ben. “It peen funny to see an eels choke somepody plack undt plue, ain’t it? Go ahead undt laugh your sides split.”

“Why, that thing wouldn’t hurt you, Carl,” said Grant, advancing and wiping his eyes, for excessive laughter had brought the tears. “It don’t look to me like an eel.”

“Iss dot so!” sneered Duckelstein scornfully. “Maype you supposition it vas a catfish? Maype you peliefe it peen a whales? I pet you I know an eels vhen he sees me, undt uf dot vas not an eels I vill alife svallow it.”

The Texan lifted the rod with the long root dangling at the end of the line, causing Carl to scramble away still further and once more get upon his stubby legs, prepared to run.

“It’s not an eel at all,” said Rod; “it’s nothing but an old root that must have caught upon your line in some manner.”

“Vot?” squawked the Dutch boy, staring incredulously at the thing. “It peen a roots? Vot iss? It couldt not peen a roots, for didt I not feel him aroundt my neck viggle undt choke me almost der vind out of? Keep avay!” he howled, as Rod started to advance. “Perhaps it didt like a root look, but an eels can tell me efery time.”

“Look here,” invited Rodney, taking the thing in his hands and detaching it from the line. “I tell you it’s nothing but an old root.”

Even then Duckelstein found it almost impossible to believe the evidence of his eyes. Chagrined, he finally said:

“Vale, dot peen der first time I efer knew a hook to pite a roots. It vas a most singular concurrence.”

“You see now,” said Stone, attempting to appear quite grave, “why we laughed and didn’t go to your assistance.”

“Didt you knew all der time it peen a roots?” questioned Carl a bit suspiciously.

“Yes, we knew it all the time.”

“Vale, uf dot vas der case, I vill again say dot it peen a strange concurrence, and I didt not understood him. I couldt not comprehension how dot root came on my line caught.”

“That’s the most natteral thing in the world,” said Crane. “Yeou went to snoozin’ and let your line sink to the bottom. The old root was down there and got ketched on it.”

“Maype dot vas so,” admitted Carl, although his suspicions were plainly unallayed; “but der bottom of der vater off der rocks vas nothings but gravel undt sand, undt I couldt not imachine vot made dot roots svim there.”

“He’s on to you,” whispered Piper in Crane’s ear. “Beware of the hour of vengeance.”

“Vhy didt you not out loud say it?” demanded Duckelstein, giving Piper a look. “Vhy didt you vhisper dot fashions? I oxpect you haf enchoyed a great deal uf fun mit me already soon. Maype sometimes der laugh vill out come der other side your mouth of. I vill now home go.”

Overflowing with resentment, he started toward the old white horse, which, with head drooping and eyes closed, seemed, like Carl, to have the sleeping habit.

“Don’t hike away mad in that fashion,” entreated Grant, following. “You won’t forget the stuff you’re to bring us every morning, will you?”

“Oh, no,” assured Carl, “I vill not let it forget me. I vill aroundt come, as agreement, undt maype you vill some more fun haf py me—undt maype you von’t.”

Grasping the horse’s bit, he compelled the animal to back the heavy wagon round so that he might drive away. Climbing upon the wagon, he picked up the reins, but turned for a moment before departing to say:

“You vant to out look for dot gouger. If dot gouger shouldt aroundt come der night in, he might pite you.” Then he gave the reins a slap, chirped to the ancient nag and started.

“May I be eternally chawed up!” rasped Sleuth, glaring at Carl’s receding back. “Is it possible the fellow knows something about my terrible experience last night? He hauled our dunnage over here. You don’t suppose he found a way to plant those confounded ants in my sleeping bag, do you, comrades? If I thought so, I would unhesitatingly shed his gore.”

Springer choked and coughed in the attempt to suppress another shout of laughter, while Crane, with admirable soberness, made answer to Piper:

“I really don’t see haow he could have faound the chance, Sleuthy. Yeou’ve got jest as much reason to suspect that I done it myself, and yeou know there wa’n’t no chance for that. I tell yeou them sleepin’ bags always become infested if they ain’t used reg’ler.”

“It will be a long time before I use one again, regular or irregular,” asserted Piper. “I’ve had my lesson.” The manner in which he uttered these words made it impossible for Sile, even, to keep his face straight.

“As I once before remarked,” observed Grant, “I don’t reckon Carl Duckelstein is quite as sleepy as he looks. It was plenty plain that he suspected us of putting up that joke on him.”

After laughing and chatting a while longer, they became aware that it was midday and time for dinner.

“I’m hungry again,” announced Sleuth; “and even taking up a hole in my belt, after the manner of the bold pioneers of other days, will not satisfy me. What are we to have for rations?”

“Perhaps the cuc-cook will suggest something,” said Springer, looking at Stone.

“I’ve told you before,” reminded Ben, “that I’m a mighty poor cook.”

This brought a chorus of remonstrance from the others, and Grant remarked:

“I reckon you’re the best cook in the bunch, and we can stand it if you can. Our bread must be running low. Can you make bread?”

“Or flapjacks?” cried Sile. “Them’s the things, flapjacks. We brought along a can of molasses, and if yeou can knock together some flapjacks, Ben, it’ll fix us all right.”

“The kind I’d make would be likely to fix you,” agreed Stone. “Still, I’ve seen my mother make them, and I’m willing to try.”

That was enough, and, encouraged by his mates, he set about the task. First he measured out a quart of flour, into which he rubbed dry about two tablespoonfuls of lard, adding a teaspoonful of salt, two of baking powder and two of sugar, the latter to make the flapjacks brown. With the addition of cold water and the vigorous use of a spoon he produced a thin batter.

In the meantime a hot fire had been built beneath the sheet-iron stove top and the frying pan placed upon one of the uncovered holes. When the pan was well heated Stone greased it with a piece of fat pork that sizzled and spluttered.

“Now,” he said, as the boys, having set the table, gathered around to watch him, “we’ll soon find out what sort of things they will be.”

“I’m willing to take a ch-chance, anyhow,” declared Springer courageously.

“Starving men in the wilderness have been known to subsist on old moccasins,” said Piper, licking his lips. “Your flapjacks can’t be much worse, Ben.”

“I should hope not,” said the cook, using the big spoon to ladle some of the batter into the frying pan. “You fellows better get ready to tackle them as they come hot from the skillet.”

“I’m going to watch,” said Sleuth, squatting near, the heat of the fire having caused the perspiration to start out on his face. “It’s well that all adventurous characters who explore wild and unknown lands should have at least a rudimentary knowledge of the culinary art.”

With repeated dips of the spoon Stone had poured enough batter to fill the hot pan within half an inch of the rim, and this he now watched closely as it began to cook. As soon as the cake was full of bubbles and the edges had begun to stiffen, he lifted the pan and shook it with a rotary movement, which set the big flapjack free.

“Are you going to flip it?” questioned Sleuth eagerly. “They always flip ’em, don’t they?”

“I’m going to try it,” said Ben, holding the pan slantingly away from his body. “Look out.”

He gave a toss and a flip, and the hot cake sailed into the air. In vain he sought to catch it, and in vain Piper dodged.

The flapjack hit Sleuth fairly in the left eye, and he fell over upon his back with a howl of dismay.

Naturally, this incident was productive of considerable merriment, in which, however, the victim failed to join.

“Enjoy yourselves!” rasped Sleuth, gazing ruefully at the lost flapjack as it lay on the ground. “Laugh, while I perish of hunger, you heartless brutes! Say, Ben, don’t try to flip the next one; turn it with a knife or something. And please hurry up, or in the throes of famine I’ll eat that half-cooked thing that soaked me in the blinker.”

Stone, however, persisted in the attempt to flip the flapjacks, and, having learned something through his first failure, succeeded quite well with the next cake, although Piper took care to keep well out of range. Having caught the knack, the cook furnished flapjacks as fast as the fire would brown them, and, urged by him, the boys began devouring them almost as rapidly as they came to the table. Adrip with molasses, they were not so bad, either.

“I’ve sus-seen worse,” said Springer.

“Where?” laughed Ben.

“In the dictionary,” replied Phil, lifting a dripping piece to his mouth.

“Come on, Stoney,” urged Crane. “Don’t yeou dast to try ’em? Ain’t yeou goin’ to eat any?”

“When the rest of you begin to falter,” said Ben, as he watched another one browning, “I’ll take a venture. If they prove fatal we’ll all perish together.”

Far from proving fatal, however, they fully satisfied the hunger of those vigorous boys, whose healthy digestions gave them not a single pang. The last morsel was cleaned up, and Stone was universally acclaimed as a wonderful cook.

“I reckon that settles it,” said Grant, when he had finished. “You’ve got your job cut out for you during this outing, Ben, and I shall vote that you be given full charge of the commissary department.”