“Breakfast is ready,” announced Olbinett with as much dignity as if he was in Malcolm Castle.
Without delay, the fugitives sat down near the palisade, and began one of the many meals with which Providence had supplied them in critical circumstances. Nobody was inclined to be fastidious, but opinions were divided as regarded the edible fern. Some thought the flavor sweet and agreeable, others pronounced it leathery, insipid, and resembling the taste of gum. The sweet potatoes, cooked in the burning soil, were excellent. The geographer remarked that Kara-Tete was not badly off after all.
And now that their hunger was appeased, it was time to decide on their plan of escape.
“So soon!” exclaimed Paganel in a piteous tone. “Would you quit the home of delight so soon?”
“But, Monsieur Paganel,” interposed Lady Helena, “if this be Capua, you dare not intend to imitate Hannibal!”
“Madam, I dare not contradict you, and if discussion is the order of the day, let it proceed.”
“First,” said Glenarvan, “I think we ought to start before we are driven to it by hunger. We are revived now, and ought to take advantage of it. To-night we will try to reach the eastern valleys by crossing the cordon of natives under cover of the darkness.”
“Excellent,” answered Paganel, “if the Maories allow us to pass.”
“And if not?” asked John Mangles.
“Then we will use our great resources,” said Paganel.