The idea was revived again by the mate.
“That’s a pleasant way of looking at things,” said Panton.
“Horrible!” exclaimed Drew, with a shiver.
“Yes, we’ve had enough of fire from the volcano,” said Oliver, with a glance in its direction, forgetting as he did that it was invisible from their side of the mist.
“We have, gentlemen,” said the mate, “but that will be their plan. We may beat them off times enough, but so sure as they set thoroughly to work to burn us out, we’re done for, sir.”
“You think so?”
“No, I don’t think. We’re as inflammable as can be, and they’ve only got to bring plenty of dry, fierce, burning wood and pile it up, and there we are as soon as they set light to it. They can have a good feast then.”
“What?” cried Drew.
“Feast, sir. There’ll be plenty of roast men done to a turn.”
“Don’t!” cried Oliver. “You give me quite a turn.”