FRANK MAKES PANCAKES
"Fellows, he's fallen in a quicksand!" yelled Bart. "Come on, help him
out!"
"Look out we don't get in it ourselves," cautioned Frank, but it was
from no desire to shirk any danger in rescuing his chum that he was thus
thoughtful. Rather he wanted to be on the safe side. "Go ahead, Bart and
Ned. I'll get some tree branches, in case you can't reach him," he
added.
Ned and Bart started on a run toward their unfortunate chum. Poor Fenn
was engulfed almost to his shoulders, and was struggling ineffectually
to get out.
"Don't worry, we'll save you!" called Bart encouragingly. "Hold on,
Stumpy."
"That's the trouble--there's nothing to hold on to," panted Fenn.
"Is the water hot?" asked Ned.
"No, only warm; but I'm in as much mud as I am water. Give me a hand,
and pull me out."
Bart and Ned advanced to do so, but, to their dismay they found that
they were themselves sinking in. As they had approached on this side of
the boiling spring on a previous occasion, much closer to the water than
they now were, it was evident that there had been a shifting of the
earth underneath the surface.
"We can't come any closer, Stumpy," announced Bart. "We'll sink in
ourselves." He was about to go back.
"Don't--don't leave me!" begged the unfortunate lad, making another
attempt to lift himself out of the slough. "Don't go back on me, Bart!"
"We won't. We were only trying to think of a way to get you out,"
answered Bart, as he held Ned back from going too close.
"Here, this will do it," cried Frank, running up at that moment with a
long, tree branch. "Take hold of this, Stumpy, and we'll haul you out."
Standing where the ground was firm, Frank thrust forward the branch,
Bart and Ned assisting their chum. Fenn grasped desperately at the other
end, and his three companions braced themselves.
There was a straining, a long, steady pull and Fenn slowly began to
emerge from the hole. Once he was started it was an easy matter to pull
him out completely, and in a few seconds he was out of danger, and
standing beside his chums on solid earth. But such a sight!
He was covered with mud almost from his head to his feet. It dripped
from his clothes, and his hands were thick with it, while some had even
splashed on his face. He had not been rescued more than a minute before
there came a rumbling sound, and a spray of mud and water shot up into
the air. The volcano was in eruption, and Fenn had been saved in the
nick of time, for the place where he had been sucked down was right on
the edge of the disturbance.
"How did it happen?" asked Frank.
"It was so quick I can't tell," answered the muddy lad. "All I know is
that I went down and seemed to keep on going."
"Better come over to where the water flows out of the spring, and wash
off," suggested Ned, and Fenn agreed with him. The water with which he
removed the worst of the mud from his clothes was unpleasant smelling,
impregnated as it was with salt and sulphur, but there was no help for
it. As the three labored to get Fenn into some sort of presentable
shape, numerous turtles crawled around them, evidently disturbed by the
unaccustomed visits.
"Well, I'll do, I guess," remarked Fenn, at length, trying to catch a
glimpse of himself in the little stream of water. "Wow, but that's
dirty mud, though!"
"Next time don't go so near," cautioned Bart.
"You should have told me that first," answered Fenn, with a grim smile.
With a final look at the place of the mud volcano the boys turned back
toward camp. They had not learned much, save that the mysterious visitor
had come in the direction of the boiling spring--why, they could not
fathom. Fenn spoke of getting some of the less common turtles to add to
his collection, but his chums persuaded him to wait until they were
ready to go home.
Fenn's first work, when he reached the tent, was to change his clothes,
and then, making a good fire in the wood stove he took a bath, with
water melted from snow. He felt better after this, and was about to
proceed with the getting ready of supper, for they had taken their lunch
with them on their tramp to the spring, and had made coffee on the way.
"Fenn, you sit down and rest, and I'll get the meal," suggested Frank,
good-naturedly. "I think I'll give you fellows a treat."
"What'll it be?" asked Ned.
"How would pancakes go?" inquired Frank with a triumphant air.
"Can you make 'em?" asked Bart, doubtfully.
"Sure. I did it at home once; for dad and me. We have some prepared
flour here, and the directions are on the package. You fellows go
outside, and when the cakes are ready I'll call you in to supper."
"That suits me," observed Bart, and the others assented joyfully.
Leaving Frank in the cook-tent, they busied themselves about various
things, awaiting the call for supper, and with no great amount of
patience, for they were hungry.
"Do you fellows smell anything," asked Bart, after a long wait, and he
sniffed the air strongly.
"You don't mean to say Frank's burning those cakes, do you?" inquired
Ned anxiously.
"No, I don't smell him cooking them at all," answered Bart. "They ought
to be pretty nearly done by this time, for it doesn't take long. Maybe
he's in trouble. I'm going to take a look."
He advanced cautiously to peer into the cook tent, whence came a series
of rather queer sounds. Bart took one look through the flap, and then
beckoned to his chums.
"Look, but don't laugh," he cautioned them.
It was well he did, for the sight that met their eyes made them want to
howl. Frank was in the midst of the tent, surrounded by several pots,
pans, pails, dishes and other receptacles, filled with pancake batter.
He was industriously stirring more in the bread-pan, and there was a
puzzled look on his face.
"Hang it all," Frank's chums heard him mutter, "I can't seem to get this
stuff right. Guess it needs more flour." He put some into the batter he
was mixing, and then stirred it. "Now it's too thick," he remarked. "It
needs more water." He poured the fluid in with a too lavish hand, it
seemed, for he murmured: "Gee whiz! Can't I get this right? Now I've got
it too thin. I'll have to empty part of it out."
He looked around for something into which to pour part of the batter,
but every available dish in the tent seemed to be filled.
"No use saving it," Frank went on. "I'll just throw some of it away.
I've got lots left." He emptied part of the batter into a refuse pail,
and his face wore such a worried expression as he came back to his task,
that Bart and his two chums could not hold back their laughter any
longer. As they burst into peals of mirth, Frank glanced up, and saw
them spying on him from the tent flap.
"Hu! you fellows think you're mighty smart, I guess!" he muttered.
"How are you coming on?" asked Bart "Are you stocking up for fear of a
blizzard, Frank?"
Then the comical side of the situation struck the volunteer cook, and
he, too, joined in the fun.
"It's funny how this thing came out," said Frank, with a dubious air.
"First the batter was too thick, and then, when I put more water in, it
was too thin. Then I had too much, and I had to empty some of it out.
Then I did the same thing over again, and had to keep on emptying. I
never could seem to get it right, and I've used up nearly a sack of
flour. I put the flavoring in, too."
"Flavoring? What flavoring?" asked Fenn quickly.
"Cocoanut, I guess it was. I found it in a cocoanut box, anyhow."
"I never heard of cocoanut flavoring in pancakes," said Fenn dubiously,
"but maybe it's all right. But I'll show you how to mix 'em, Frank.
We'll just put two or three dishes of this batter together in the pan,
add a little more flour, and some salt, and it'll be ready to bake,"
and, as he talked Fenn soon beat up the batter to the right consistency,
for he had a knack of cooking. Then a frying pan was put on the stove,
for they had brought along no regular griddle, it was greased, and
Frank, who insisted on doing the rest, was allowed to pour out the
batter, and do the turning. This part he managed fairly well, and soon
he had a big plate full of nicely-browned cakes.
"Seems to me they smell sort of funny," remarked Ned, as he sat down to
the table, and helped himself liberally.
"Oh, that's only your imagination," declared Frank. "They're all right.
Eat hearty, fellows, there's lots of 'em." There was--enough for a
squad.
Fenn poured out a liberal amount of maple syrup on his pile of cakes. He
put a generous piece of the top brown one in his mouth. The next minute
he uttered a yell, and made rush for the outside of the tent.
"Wow! Oh!" he cried on his way.
"Why, what's the matter?" asked Frank, as Fenn hastily drank several
glasses of water on his return.
"What did you say you flavored those cakes with?" demanded the stout
youth, while Bart and Ned paused, with their forks half raised to their
mouths.
"Cocoanut," answered Frank.
"Soap powder, you mean!" exclaimed Fenn, as he made a dash for the box
that served as a cupboard, and took out a pasteboard package that had
contained cocoanut. "I put soap powder in this to have handy when I
washed the dishes," explained the fleshy youth, "and you flavored the
cakes with it, Frank. Wow! Wow!"
"Oh punk!" groaned Bart, as he pushed his plate away from him, "and I
was counting on griddle cakes!"
Frank cautiously smelled of the pile of cakes on his plate.
"Guess you're right," he admitted dubiously. "I'm sorry fellows, but my
pancakes are a failure."