Tom Slade at Bear Mountain by Percy Keese Fitzhugh

The next morning something happened, trivial in itself, but destined to have a bearing on the course of this chronicle. The campers used up the last of their coffee for breakfast. After the usual playful expedient of trying to squeeze more out of the tin can, they found that even their supply for that particular breakfast was insufficient. A camp without coffee (whatever you may hear to the contrary notwithstanding) is as sad a thing as a camp without a camp fire.

"I don't see but what we'll have to bust into civilization," said Brent. "I wonder if we look like a couple of Rip Van Winkles. Where do you suppose is the nearest grocery store?"