When about an hour later Frank called each of his chums up on the ’phone, and eagerly demanded to know how things had turned out, he was delighted to hear them say one after the other that everything was lovely, and full permission to go had been duly granted.

After lunch they held a grand pow-wow at the home of Will, to which the two girls were admitted; for it had been deemed best that all the schools in both Centerville and Newtonport should be closed for a few days, in order to make a few needed repairs after the storm.

“Frank, consider yourself appointed commander-in-chief; and now please tell each of us what we must do,” said Will, as they gathered around in the living room.

“I’ll see about the wagon that is to take our stuff up.  One of us can meet the driver on the road after we’ve picked out the spot for the camp.  Every fellow be sure to have his outfit ready at seven in the morning.  Bring two blankets apiece, and the things I’ve written down here—­a towel, soap, and such little necessities,” returned Frank.

“Who looks after the grub part of it?” demanded Bluff, who was never known to be separated from his appetite.

“That’s my part, too,” said Frank; “only, if any of you have any particular fancy in the line of stuff to eat now’s the time to add it to the list I’ve made out.”

“Let’s take a squint at it, partner,” remarked Bluff, anxiously.

He ran through the list.

“Don’t think I’m going on short rations,” laughed Frank, noting the expression akin to dismay appearing on the other’s face; “but you see we’ll have our motor-cycles along, and when we need a new lot of groceries it’ll just be fun to mount and fly down here to pick up a bundle.  Read out the variety, Bluff, and see if any one thinks we want anything else.”

“H’m, here’s matches, sugar, tea, coffee, condemned milk—­I mean condensed milk—­butter, four loaves of bread made at home by Frank’s hired girl, who’s a dandy cook,” read Bluff, in a sing-song tone.  “Then comes bacon, salt pork for cooking fish with, half a ham, potatoes, pepper and salt, self-raising flour, cornmeal, fine hominy, rice, beans, canned corn, tomatoes, Boston baked beans, a jar of jam, canned corned-beef and crackers.

“What else—­don’t all speak at once?” asked Frank, holding a pencil ready.

“I say a nice juicy beefsteak for the first night in camp; we won’t be able to produce any game at short notice, I reckon, and that would be fine; just put that down for my sake, chief,” observed Jerry.

“And, say, ain’t we going to have any onions?” asked Bluff indignantly, at which Frank doubled up as if taken with a fit.

“That’s one on me, boys.  Why, I wouldn’t ever think of going into camp without a supply of good onions along.  If you ever came trudging home at evening, with game on your back, tired to beat the band, and when near camp sniffed fired onions cooking, you’d say they’re the best thing ever toted into the wilderness.  That’s the time you showed your good sense, Bluff, old man.  Onions?  Why, to be sure, and plenty of ’em.  Anything more?” he laughed.