Dave had two frying pans hot over a fire.

In went the perch, sputtering in the fat and giving forth appetizing odors.
"My, but they're going to taste good!" declared Danny Grin.
Leaving Greg to finish with the cleaning of the fish Dick passed to another campfire, throwing into a hot pan the material for fried potatoes.
Ere long the meal was on the table---two boards placed across the tops of two boxes.

It was a low table, but it served the purpose.
"My, but this fish tastes good!" murmured Tom Reade, as he picked a piece of fried perch free of the backbone and began eating it.
"We'll all of us find it the best meal ever, just because we've tramped far enough and worked hard enough to make any kind of decent food taste great," Dick smiled.
The supper over, and one of the campfires replenished, all six of the youngsters took the dishes down to the lake, carrying along two kettles of hot water, where a general dish-washing ensued.
With so many to do the work, the camp was spick and span within twenty minutes.
"Now, I'm going to enjoy one thing that I haven't had all day, and that's some real rest," Prescott declared, throwing himself down upon the grass.

"I don't believe I shall move until bedtime." But he did.

Already trouble was hovering over the camp.