“What! a horrible reptile?”
“So’s a turtle, sir; and you won’t say turtle-soup isn’t good.”
“But a snake, and perhaps poisonous, Ned?”
“We shouldn’t eat his head, sir. Don’t see why you might not just as well eat a snake as an eel, sir.”
“Throw it away!” cried Jack sharply.
“All right, sir, you’re master.—Good-bye, good victuals!” Ned added in an undertone.—“Won’t have hurt the taters, sir, there was all this thick layer of ashes between.”
“Are they burnt up?”
“No, sir, just right, and floury as can be. Look at that.”
It was getting too dark to see much; but Jack made out that the little round vegetable was all floury where it was broken.
The whole cooking was raked out, the ashes scattered away, and Ned proceeded to take out his knife and hand it to his young master, with instructions to cut out his shirt-sleeves just at the shoulder.