“Maybe you are, but we’re not,” retorted Lee, as he scraped the fire aside and fished out an egg. “Here you are, Bobby, I’ve tasted them before and they’re not really so bad, especially when you’re hungry. Go to it.”
“How do you eat the things, anyway?” asked Bobby, looking doubtfully at the strange object. “I suppose neither of you happens to have an egg cup and a spoon in your pocket, have you?”
“I usually carry them around with me, but I reckon I must have lost them,” said Lee, sarcastically. “Just chip the end off, and go to it, Bobby. You’ll enjoy it, believe me.”
“I’d like to believe you, but I’m afraid I can’t,” said Bobby. “Well, I can only die once. Good-by, fellows. Here goes.”
He chipped part of the thick outside covering off the egg, and very gingerly took a small bite.
“What’s it like?” questioned Fred, watching him anxiously. “Is it as bad as I think it is?”
“It isn’t bad at all, if I only had a little salt to go with it,” said Bobby, taking another and larger bite this time. “You fellows had better dig in, or there won’t be any left.”
“What does it taste like, anyway?” asked Fred, doubtfully.
“Alligator egg,” returned Bobby, munching away. “I was elected to try these eggs first, but there was nothing in it about telling you fellows what they tasted like. Try ’em for yourselves.”
“But that was the idea that you should taste them, so you could tell us whether they were good or not,” complained Fred.