JACK'S ELEGANT CHICKEN PIE
The sun was high over the mountains when Ned awoke on the morning
following the adventure with the counterfeiters. Leaving Jimmie,
Frank, Teddy and Oliver in their bunks and Dode, the new acquisition
to the party, curled up in a nest of blankets, he issued forth from
the tent and looked about for Jack, who had been left on guard.
The boy was nowhere in sight at first, then he saw him at a spring
which bubbled out of the mountain not far from the corral. It was the
water from this spring which brought forth the tender grass upon
which the mules were feeding.
Jack looked up with a shout when he saw Ned, and came running up to
the camp, carrying in one hand a pail in which three large-sized
chickens lay, nicely boiled, carved and washed.
"What do you think of that?" he demanded, pushing the pail up under
Ned's nose. "I guess we're some hustlers for sustenance!"
"Where did you get the hens?" asked Ned. "They sure look good to me."
"You couldn't guess in a thousand years!" Jack replied. "So I'm going
to tell you, right off the handle! Judd Bradley, the blonde fellow
who brought the boy in, came up with them, with the compliments of
Mrs. Brady, about an hour ago. He brought the boy up with him, too.
What do you know about that?"
"Is it the prince, or is it Mike III.?" asked Ned, with a smile.
"If you leave it to me," Jack answered quite positively, "it is the
prince!"
"How does he look and act this morning?"
"Like a kid raised under restraint, now free and full of the de--Old
Nick!"
"And Bradley?" asked Ned.
"That's another point! He watches the kid every second of the time,
and when the boy speaks a word of French he looks daggers at him! I
reckon the son of Mike II. wouldn't be talking French! Nor he
wouldn't be here with a chaperon from Washington. We have found the
prince, all right, and I'm sorry for it! It makes our work too easy!"
"Don't crow until you're out of the woods!" laughed Ned. "There may
be a few adventures in store for us yet! So this seven-year-old boy
talks French, does he?"
"You bet he does! Like a native!"
"Where are they now--Bradley and the boy, I mean?"
"Down by the mules! The boy, who is constantly called
Mike--ostentatiously called by that name--wants to ride Uncle Ike! Fat
time he'll have if he gets aboard of that argumentative brute!"
"Are they going to help eat the chicken?" asked Ned.
"Sure! I told them to stick around until I got the most beautiful
chicken pie built they ever touched tongue to. They're going to stay.
You go and talk with them while I make the pie. It is going to be a
corker--melt in your mouth, make you dream of the old red barn down
on the farm!"
"Ever make a chicken pie?" asked Ned.
"Of course not! There's got to be a first time to everything! But I
know how. I've got a recipe here which is used by the chef at
Sherry's."
"Go to it!" laughed Ned. "I'll take my chances on having canned meat
for dinner."
"You just wait!" roared Jack, as Ned dashed down to the spring.
Jack stood a moment, pail in hand, watching Ned washing at the
spring, and then went on to the fire, leaving Ned to proceed to the
corral and entertain the guests.
Jimmie was just tumbling out of the tent when Jack came up with the
chicken. That young man immediately set up a shout which awakened the
others and brought them out rubbing their eyes.
"Chicken for breakfast!" he shouted.
"Chicken pie for dinner!" Jack corrected.
"All right!" sighed the boy. "Then I'll cook a couple of pounds of
ham and a couple of dozen eggs for breakfast! That ought to keep us
alive until you get the pie ready!"
"How do you make chicken pie?" demanded Frank. "I've always wanted to
know how to make a pie out of a hen."
"You just watch me," Jack answered, not without a touch of pride,
"and I'll show how it is done. Here, young man, don't set down on my
dough! That's for the crust."
Jimmie bounded off a camp stool where the cook had deposited his
crust-dough on a clean white paper and watched Jack line a six-quart
tin pail with the mixture of flour, water and baking powder.
"That ain't thick enough!" he commented. "The crust ought to be an
inch thick."
"You go out and feed the mules!" ordered Jack. "When I want any help
in making a chicken pie I won't call on you!"
"Anyway," Jimmie insisted, "it ought to be an inch thick."
Jack laid the pieces of chicken in the bed of dough--the chickens
having been cooked tender long before Ned was out of his blankets--and
put in salt, pepper, a small piece of butter--out of a glass
can!--and then poured in some of the liquid the chickens had been
stewed in.
"If there should happen to be a drumstick you can't get in," Jimmie
volunteered, "I can eat it for breakfast!"
"So that's why you wanted the crust so thick!" cried Jack. "You
wanted to crowd the chicken out so you could stuff yourself with a
hen for breakfast! Run along and play you'r a baker's wagon
delivering goods on the Bowery!"
"You're the wise little man--not!" Jimmie grunted and set about
cooking ham and eggs for breakfast.
"How long will it take that chicken pie to cook?" asked Teddy.
"Couple of hours," replied Jack. "Sometimes it takes longer."
Jack prepared a great bed of coals, drew up dry wood to make more,
and set the pail of chicken pie in the heavy double oven to cook.
"I'm making this 'specially light and sweet," he said, poking the
coals up to the oven, "because we're going to have a prince of the
royal blood to breakfast."
"Where is he?" asked Jimmie, with a grin, "Down by the mules! He
brought these chickens to us--or his chaperon did! Rather thoughtful
of him! Say, Frank," Jack added, "will you go down to the corral and
take a lot of snapshots of the kid? I want to send some home to
Chicago, just to convince the boys I've been dining with royalty."
"Dining with Mike III.," Frank laughed. "It is dollars to dills that
the boy trying to get on Uncle Ike's back is fresh from the
Washington slums!"
"Look you here, little man," Jack began, but just at that moment Ned,
Bradley, and the boy appeared on the slope, headed for the camp. The
boy was seated on the back of Uncle Ike, who, for a wonder, was
marching along sedately, as if accustomed to being made the plaything
of children.
"I wouldn't have believed it of him!" Jimmie muttered. "I wouldn't
have trusted a kid on that wild animal's back any sooner than I would
have trusted eggs to a hay-baler. Uncle Ike's sure going into a
decline!"
The boy came riding up ahead of the others and shouted to Jimmie:
"Gardez! A cheval!" he shouted, urging the mule into a trot.
"That's your kid from the Washington slums!" Jack laughed,
scornfully. "Talking French!"
"What does he say?" demanded Jimmie.
"He says for you to be on your guard--to look out for yourself--as he
is coming on horseback. I don't know much French, but that is easy!"
Bradley hastened to the boy's side and said something to him in a
tone which the others could not hear, the lad coloring slightly as he
listened.
"He's jawing him for speaking French!" Jimmie commented.
"It looks like it," Jack observed. "Oh, I reckon we've got the prince
all right. I wonder when we are going to start back to Washington
with him, and if Ned will pinch that blonde beauty who brought him
in?"
Uncle Ike stopped at the campfire and stuck his nose into Jimmie's
pocket, looking for sugar. Mike III., as some of the boys insisted on
thinking of the little fellow, dropped off and seized the animal by
the tail and began to pull. Frank ran to get the child out of his
dangerous position, but Uncle Ike merely looked around to see what it
was that was pulling his tail winked one eye at Frank, and went on
searching pockets.
"That mule sure gets my goat!" grinned Jimmie. "What do you think of
his standing still while his tail is being pulled?"
By this time Jimmie had prepared breakfast, and the boys gathered
about the fire with tin plates on their knees, and devoured ham and
eggs, baked beans, and bread and butter and coffee with a mountain
relish. Mike III. ate what was given to him at the first helping and
then clamored for more. Bradley whispered something in his ear, but
the boy pushed him off with a scowl:
"Alles-vous en!" he cried, angrily.
Jack snickered and Frank looked as if he had made a mistake in his
estimate of the boy and knew it! Bradley drew the boy away, but
Jimmie hastened to replenish his plate.
"Let the kid have all he wants!" he said. "We can cook more. We're
going to have a chicken pie for dinner, and he'll like that."
"Seems to me it is about time Jack was looking after that pie," Frank
suggested.
"Pretty near forgot it!" Jack admitted, going to the oven and opening
the door so as to look inside at the dainty.
Something took place when he did that! The square piece of metal flew
back on its hinges with a thump, and cut of the oven flew the cover
of the tin pail in which the chicken pie had been tucked. It shot
across the fire and struck Jimmie under the ear and then rolled back
into the blaze!
"Jerusalem!" cried the boy. "What you shootin' at me for?"
No attention was paid to what the boy said, for at that moment a wave
of dough, spotted here and there with pieces of chicken, puffed out
of the pail and tumbled over Jack's stooping shoulders and on into
the fire, where it continued to grow until the fire half consumed it.
"Catch the chicken!" yelled Frank. "He's running away."
Jack tried to keep the dough in the oven, but it rolled out and
covered his hands and arms with a sticky mess. The little fellow
screamed with delight.
"Oh, oh, _de mal en pis!_" he shouted.
"Grab the chicken!" shouted Teddy. "We can finish breakfast on that!"
While the mess was being cleared up, Frank asked Jack:
"How much baking powder did you put into that dough?"
"Only one can!" was the reply, and Frank went away and rolled on the
ground!
"Say," Jimmie whispered to Jack, who was scraping the chicken pie off
his clothes, "what did the kid say when he pushed Bradley away, and
when the pie busted?"
"First he said 'be off with you' or 'let me alone' next he said 'from
bad to worse' Or something like that. Look at Bradley. He's calling
him down for it, right now. I'm going, to talk French to that kid
when Bradley goes away. I'm going to know about this three Mike and
this prince business!"