“Tell us, Caspar—all right, go on.”
“We have with us two guns—Ossaroo has his spear, his hatchet, his bow, and a good quiver of arrows—fortunately his quiver, too, is of thick bamboo, and dry as a chip. First, then, I propose that, with Ossaroo’s axe, we break up the stocks of our guns, ramrods, and all—we can soon make others, once we get out—also the shaft of Ossaroo’s spear, his bow, arrows, and quiver—never mind, Ossaroo, you can replace them from the forest. This being done, we can make a fire large enough to melt as much fat as will make us no end of dips.”
“You are right, brother,” interposed Karl; “but how about the vessel to melt it in?”
“That puzzled me for a while,” replied the ingenious Caspar; “but I got over the difficulty, at length, by thinking of my powder-flask; you know it is a patent one, and the top screws off. Well—we can take off the top, empty the powder into one of our pockets, and make use of the bottom part for the lard. I am sure it will stand the fire, for it is stout copper without a flaw. The only difficulty is, that it is small; but we can fill it over and over again.”
“And you propose to make the string which Ossaroo has got into wicks, and dip them in the hot grease?”
“Nothing of the sort,” replied Caspar, in a triumphant tone; “we shall have no dips. I was contented with them at first, but not any longer. We shall have candles—real mould-candles!”
“How? Mould-candles? How?”
“Oh! that you shall see by-and-by. Ossaroo would only disclose part of his plans when he went to trap the tiger, and I mean to keep a little of mine to myself, in order to have a revanche upon him. Ha! ha! ha!”
Caspar finished his speech with a laugh. It was the first time any of them had laughed since they entered that cave—no doubt, the first laugh that ever echoed through its gloomy aisles.