Away below the falls the raft was brought together again, and then was tied up at a favorable place.
The cook built a rousing fire on shore and set to work making coffee and getting supper ready, while the tired men came straggling in one by one.
Hans Dunnerwust was hungry.
“I veel like I vos all gone avay mit der insides uf me,” he declared. “You never velt so empty, all my life in. Yaw. I pelief a raw tog could eat me.”
Among the stuff brought in to the temporary camp was a box containing some long brown-colored cylinders. Hans went nosing around the box and saw the cylinders.
“I vonder vot dot could peen,” he speculated. “Id looks goot. I don’d pelief I vould hurt id uf id should eat me.”
He took one of the cylinders in his hand and examined it still more closely.
“Shimminy Gristmas!” he speculated. “I pet you your life I could eat dot whole lot mitoudt a sdruggle. Yaw. I vonder uf dot peen petter uf id vos poiled, roasted, ur fried?”
The cook was busy a little distance from the fire, upon the coals of which, raked out for the purpose, the great coffee pots were steaming.
Hans took out his knife and cut off some slices from the cylinders.