"My! but isn't this fowl tough!" exclaimed Worth, as he struggled with his share of the feast. "Sole-leather and rubber are nothing to it."
"Yes," replied Sumner; "ten-ounce army duck would be easier eating than this fellow. I wish we could have stewed them with rice, a few bits of pork, a slice or two of onion, and a seasoning of pepper and salt. How do you think that would go?"
"Please don't mention such things," said Worth, working at a drumstick with teeth and both hands.
"Ducks ought always to be parboiled before roasting," remarked Sumner, wisely.
"I believe this fellow would be like eggs," replied Worth; "the more you boiled him the harder he would get."
However, hunger and young teeth can accomplish wonders, so it was not very long before two little heaps of cleanly-picked bones marked all that was left of the ducks, and though they could easily have eaten more, the boys wisely decided to reserve the doves for breakfast.
Although the darkness rendered it a difficult task, Sumner managed to cut a few armfuls more of palmetto leaves. These, shredded from their heavy stalks and spread thickly over the floor of the lean-to, made a couch decidedly more comfortable than a bed on the bare ground would have been.
They could do nothing more that night, and lying there in the firelight they had the first opportunity since discovering the loss of their canoes to thoroughly discuss the situation.
"What would our mothers say if they could see us now, and know the fix we are in?" queried Worth, after a meditative silence.
"I'm awfully glad they can't know anything about it," replied Sumner.