“We could get one of those fellows if we wanted him,” said Serge, his glance resting on the slender shaft of the native spear that was lashed on deck.
“What good would it do us? I thought we lost our interest in seal-skins some time ago,” said Phil, bitterly.
“Seal-meat would save us from starving.”
“How could we cook it?”
“We couldn’t,” replied Serge, significantly.
“Well, I must confess that I’m hungry, but I don’t think I care to eat raw seal-meat just yet. I say, old man, do you suppose two fellows ever had such an unlucky trip as ours? We seem to have jumped from one trouble into another ever since we started.”
“And this is the worst of all,” answered Serge, despondently.
“Yes, I suppose it is; and starving to death does seem a very dreadful way of dying. I don’t know but what I’d rather drown and done with it.”
“Suppose we try an egg,” suggested Serge, with a sudden inspiration.
“That’s so! we have got eggs. I’d forgotten them entirely. Raw eggs aren’t half so bad as raw meat. I’ve eaten them before, and when I didn’t have to, either.”