The natives were getting restless. Eleven Boy Scouts were whining and shivering as we trudged through crusty snow toward the halfway point on our hike. But I had a secret weapon in my pack, ready for deployment at the turnaround.
They muttered and shuffled during fire-building, but when I whipped out a small, unassuming tube, the malaise morphed into puzzled looks. The patrol leader slammed it against a boulder and the spiral seam magically opened. Kids peeled off raw dough triangles, wrapped them on sticks and roasted their “mountain man bannock.” (Thanks, Doughboy.)
That tactic came