“We’ll soon judge for ourselves,” said Bart. “Only before we fairly sit down to dine, let’s go off and draw the boat up farther.”
Four of them started off. They found that already the tide had risen so far that it was level with the bows. A long and vigorous exertion enabled them to draw it up farther, and then they went back to the fire.
By that time it was decided that the lobster had been baking long enough, and it was accordingly uncovered.
A cry of delight escaped them.
There lay the lobster, brilliantly red, as though red hot from the oven, and showing clearly the excellence of Bart’s contrivance.
“That’s the way the Micmacs manage,” said Bart. “And they wouldn’t look at a lobster that came out of a pot.”
Ranging themselves around the lobster, in front of the fire, the boys now began their repast. One and all pronounced it glorious. It was salt enough and juicy enough to satisfy the most delicate palate; and the severe exercise and long fast of the boys had given them appetites which would have made a worse dish acceptable.
“Well, boys,” said Bart, “here we are on a desert island, without a penny in our pockets; but it isn’t a bad place, after all.”
“I wonder if they will hunt after us.”
“Of course they will.”