I want some of the real old camp chuck---plenty of it," retorted Reade, drawing a pocket comb out and running it through his damp locks while he gazed into the foot-square camp mirror hanging from a tree.
"May we come in ?" inquired Tom, pausing in the doorway of the engineers' mess tent.
"Not if you're in doubt about it," replied Mr.Blaisdell, who was already eating with great relish.

The boys slid into their seats, while Bob rapidly started things their way.
How good it all tasted! Bacon and fried eggs, corn bread and potatoes, coffee and a big dish of that time-honored standby in engineers' camp---baked beans.

Then, just as Tom and Harry, despite their appetites, sat back filled, Bob appeared with a plate of flapjacks and a pitcher of molasses.
"Ten minutes of six," observed Mr.Blaisdell, consulting his watch as he finished.

"Not much more time, gentlemen." Tom and Harry followed the assistant engineer out into the open.
"Can you tell us now, Mr.Blaisdell, what we're to do today ?" Reade inquired eagerly.
"See those transits ?" inquired Blaisdell, pointing to two of the telescoped and compassed instruments used by surveyors in running courses.

"One for each of you.