“Well, let us have supper,” said Alvarez presently, “there is nothing to be gained by railing at our fate. If the saints do not will that we shall escape, depend upon it we will not.”
So saying he rose to his feet, shrugging his shoulders resignedly.
“What a contrast between the indifference of such a race and the rugged determination of an American,” thought Jack, as he set to work to rekindle the embers of the fire that had cooked their mid–day meal.
He was blowing them into flame when Alvarez called to him from among the trees. He had found a species of oak which was burdened with acorns. These, the Mexican declared, could be made into a kind of bread if crushed and mixed with water. As this would be a welcome addition to ungarnished deer meat, Jack was proportionately pleased at the discovery. The Mexican set to work and ground the acorns between two flat stones, after which he heated one of the latter till it was almost red–hot. This done, the acorn paste was spread out on it, and before long there was produced a rather “doughy” sort of flap–jack or pan–cake. When one side was done Alvarez turned it till it was nicely browned. By this time Jack had some broiled venison ready, and they sat down to their second meal in the Lost Valley with good appetites.
The acorn flap–jack proved to be not at all unpalatable. It was rather sweet and had a peculiar flavor; at any rate it afforded some variety to the plain deer meat.
“Well, we shan’t starve here, at least,” commented the Mexican, as they ate; “there seem to be plenty of deer and small game and an unlimited supply of acorns for bread.”
“No, I suppose if it came down to that, we could live here for a century, like two Robinson Crusoes,” agreed Jack, rather bitterly, “but that’s not my plan. I mean to escape.”
“The young are always hopeful,” rejoined Alvarez, with one of his all–expressive shrugs; “I suppose you think you can carry out your plan.”
“I mean to make a mighty hard try at it, anyhow,” said Jack, setting his lips in a determined line.