"A DISH FOR THE GODS."
"Delicious! a dish for the gods! I knew well that you would like fresh meat for supper. And what meat this is! But who will dress the animal?"
"I will," said Wilson.
"Well, I will engage to broil it," replied Paganel.
"You are a cook, then, Monsieur Paganel?" said Robert.
"Certainly, my boy. A Frenchman is always a cook."
In a little while Paganel placed large slices of meat on the coals, and, in a short time, served up to his companions this appetizing viand. No one hesitated, but each attacked it ravenously. To the great amazement of the geographer, a general grimace accompanied by a "pwah!" followed the first mouthful.
"It is horrible!" said one.
"It is not eatable!" replied another.
The poor geographer, whatever was the difficulty, was forced to agree that this steak was not acceptable even to starving men. They therefore began to launch jokes at him, and deride his "dish for the gods," while he himself sought a reason for this unaccountable result.