He used his knife to cut the “shells” of the eggs; but the yolk of each was of a deep color and it was quite evident that, no matter what kind of eggs they were, they were fresh.
“Ought to be,” said Neale with confidence. “If they were not laid last night during the storm, they certainly were the night before.”
“I do not understand it,” said Agnes, as the first relay of eggs began to sputter in the pan. “Are there really poultry on this desert island? What kind of hen lays such eggs?”
“A four-legged one,” declared Neil promptly.
“Oh!”
Luke was chuckling again, for he had already guessed the nature of the eggs. “And a hen with no feathers, Neale?” he suggested.
“You’ve said it,” rejoined the younger fellow.
“Oh! Oh!” cried Ruth, suddenly laughing. “And it has a shell.”
“Mercy! Four-legged—and featherless—and a shell,” murmured the puzzled Agnes. “There is one thing sure, we have no poultry to answer to that description at the old Corner House.”
“Ah, but we are a long way from the old Corner House,” said Mr. Howbridge, likewise smiling. “You must expect different fauna—as well as different flora—in this part of the world.”