After we finished swimming, we walked back to our campsite and put on our clothes. They had dried in the sun.
“I’m starving!” I said. “When’s dinner?”
“I figured you boys were probably getting pretty hungry, so as soon as we get our campfire going, we can cook the hot dogs.”
“And the s’mores,” I added.
“Yes, Freddy, and the s’mores,” my dad said, smiling. “We just need to pile up some of those sticks you guys gathered earlier today. Where did you put them?”
I looked at Robbie, and Robbie looked at me.
“Yeah. Well, about those sticks …”
“What about them?” asked my dad.
“Remember how we were chased by that swarm of angry bees?”
“Yes.”
“Well I think we left the sticks on the ground next to that tree when we ran for our lives.”
“We could go back and get them, Mr. Thresher,” said Robbie.
“That’s a great idea. You guys go ahead. I’ll stay here and try to get the food organized.”
“Are you crazy? I’m not going anywhere near that hive!”
“Don’t worry, Freddy,” Robbie said. “Those bees aren’t there anymore. They flew off somewhere else to build another hive.”
“Are you sure?”
“What did I tell you earlier?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I know,” I said, patting Robbie on the back. “When it comes to animals, you’re the boss. All right. Let’s go.” We started to walk off. “We’ll be back in a few minutes, Dad,” I called.
It didn’t take us long to reach the big tree. Luckily the bees were gone, but our piles of sticks were still there. We picked them up and ran back to camp.
“Here you go, Dad. Two big piles of firewood.”
“Great job, boys. Now let’s get this fire started. Whaddya say?”
In no time at all, we had a roaring campfire. “I’m impressed, Mr. Thresher,” Robbie said. “This is a great fire you’ve got here.”
“Thanks, Robbie,” said my dad. “Your grandpa taught you how to fish, and my grandpa taught me how to build a great fire. He had a house way out in the country, and he had a wood-burning stove to heat his house. Whenever we went to visit, we had to build a fire just to keep warm!”
A growling noise interrupted his story.
“Shhhh. Did you hear that?” Robbie asked. “What was it?”
I burst out laughing. “Ha-ha. Oh, that was just my stomach growling. I think it’s saying, ‘Time to eat!’ “
“Then let’s eat!” said my dad. “Here’s a hot dog for each of you. Just put it on the end of one of these long sticks and hold it over the fire until the skin cracks a little bit, and it gets hot and juicy.”
“You mean I get to cook it myself?” I said excitedly.
“Of course! That’s the best part of camping. Cooking out over the campfire. Just don’t get too close to the fire.”
Soon the hot dogs were done. “Just let them cool a few minutes, and then you can eat them right off the stick,” my dad said.
“Really? I wish we could eat like this all the time,” I said, blowing on my hot dog to cool it off.
“Yeah,” said Robbie. “Who needs silverware?”
I took a bite of my hot dog. “Yum-mm-my!” I said, rubbing my stomach. “I think this is the best hot dog I ever ate.”
“Me, too,” said Robbie, shoving a huge piece into his mouth.
We gobbled up the hot dogs as if we hadn’t eaten in days.
“Time for dessert!” I yelled, and I jumped up and grabbed the bag of marshmallows. “I can already taste the hot, gooey marshmallow melting in my mouth.”
“I love s’mores,” Robbie said. “Whoever invented them was a genius.”
“You can say that again,” I said. I stacked three marshmallows on the end of my stick.
“Hey, Freddy, stop being a marshmallow hog, and pass them over here,” Robbie said, laughing.
I toasted my marshmallows until they were golden brown. Then I gently slid them off onto a graham cracker, set a piece of chocolate on top, and finished it off with another graham cracker. “Look at that,” I said, smacking my lips. “Now that is the perfect s’more.”
“Are you just going to keep on talking about it, or are you actually going to eat it?” my dad asked.
“Oh, I’m just getting started, Dad. I’m going to eat this one, and then another one, and then another one, and then another one …”
“OK, I get the point,” he said, chuckling.
We ate s’mores until we couldn’t fit another bite into our stomachs. “I think I’m going to be sick,” I said, smiling.
“Well, don’t get sick on me,” Robbie said. “If you have to toss your cookies, go do it over there,” he said, pointing to the bushes.
“I’m just kidding. I’m not really going to throw up.”
“Thank goodness,” said my dad, “because I’ll be in a lot of trouble with your mom if I bring you back sick.”
“Actually, I’ve never felt better,” I said, and a big grin spread across my face. “I’m having a great time, Dad.”
“Me, too, Mr. Thresher. Thanks for letting me come along.”
“My pleasure, Robbie. I’m having a great time, too. Whaddya say we clean up this mess, set up our sleeping bags, and tell some ghost stories?”
“Great idea!” said Robbie. “I have some stories that will really scare the pants off of you!”