Fritz instantly took up one of the gourds, and tried to split it equally with his knife, but in vain: the blade slipped, and the calabash was cut jaggedly. "What a nuisance!" said Fritz, flinging it down, "the thing is spoiled; and yet it seemed so simple to divide it properly."
"Stay," said I; "you are too impatient, those pieces are not useless. Do you try to fashion from them a spoon or two while I provide a dish."
I then took from my pocket a piece of string, which I tied tightly round a gourd, as near one end of it as I could; then tapping the string with the back of my knife, it penetrated the outer shell. When this was accomplished, I tied the string yet tighter; and drawing the ends with all my might, the gourd fell, divided exactly as I wished.
"That is clever!" cried Fritz. "What in the world put that plan into your head?"
"It is a plan," I replied, "which the negroes adopt, as I have learned from reading books of travel."
"Well, it certainly makes a capital soup-tureen, and a soup-plate too," said Fritz, examining the gourd. "But supposing you had wanted to make a bottle, how would you have set to work?"
"It would be an easier operation than this, if possible. All that is necessary is to cut a round hole at one end, then to scoop out the interior, and to drop in several shot or stones; when these are shaken, any remaining portions of the fruit are detached, and the gourd is thoroughly cleaned, and the bottle completed."
"That would not make a very convenient bottle though, father; it would be more like a barrel."
"True, my boy; if you want a more shapely vessel, you must take it in hand when it is younger. To give it a neck, for instance, you must tie a bandage round the young gourd while it is still on the tree, and then all will swell but that part which you have checked."
As I spoke, I filled the gourds with sand, and left them to dry; marking the spot that we might return for them on our way back.