"But they're on the sea, where those birds live in enormous flocks, like our wild pigeons up in the pine woods—millions of 'em!" Tug exclaimed, with outstretched arms. "No such a thing on our lake after the blackbirds leave the marshes."
"Except owls," interposed Jim; "and we can't eat them."
"I feel as though even an owl-stew wouldn't be bad about now," Aleck replied.
Nevertheless, when lunch-time came, both the big boys vowed they were not a bit hungry, and refused to eat. Katy took only a cracker, but Jim ate three crackers and the last bit of the cold ham, picking the bone so clean that, big as it was, Rex, who was frightfully hungry, could get little comfort out of it, though he gnawed at it nearly all the afternoon. Then Tug smashed it for him, and gave him another try, which he appreciated highly.
"Poor Rex!" said Katy, with a sigh. "Travellers get so badly off they have to kill and eat their dogs sometimes"—Rex stopped crunching, and looked up with a glance of alarm at this—"and if we should—"
"What a grand time Rex would have at his own bones!" interrupted Tug—a joke the utter absurdity of which wrinkled the faces that had become straight into hearty laughter. Towards evening a fire was built, which used the last of the sticks and one of the box-covers before the biscuits could be baked in the skillet, the ham fried, and tea made.
"I'm 'fraid it won't be long before I shall have to try the little stove," said Katy.
"I had no idea we were so near the end," Aleck muttered, under his breath.
The meal that evening was a very dull one, and if they did not go to sleep at once after they had gone to bed, certainly there was little fun-making among the weather-bound prisoners. Aleck said afterwards he thought he slept about an hour that night, and Katy was sure she didn't really get soundly asleep at all; but it is difficult to lie awake all night, though your rest may be so broken that you think in the morning you have never once lost your knowledge of what was going on.