“Can’t log anything against either of you so far. Good job. Now let’s eat.”
Biff and Derek peeled some potatoes; Uncle Charlie took a small axe and broke open a canned ham, disdaining to use the key attached to the can.
“Ham and fried potatoes. How does that sound?” Uncle Charlie asked.
“I could eat anything,” Biff replied.
“Might as well open up a can of stewed tomatoes, too.”
The food, although roughly prepared, seemed delicious to all three. Uncle Charlie was a good cook. The potatoes were crisp and brown. The tomatoes, well, they were just stewed tomatoes. The Danish ham had a delicate flavor unlike any Biff had eaten before.
“It’s rather like the hams we have in Holland,” Derek said.
“Only two problems in connection with running this camp,” Uncle Charlie commented. “Air and water.”
“Air? I’ve never breathed such pure air,” Biff said.
“And how much more water do you want than the Caribbean Sea?” Derek chimed in.