"Will I ever feel right?" asked the Baker. "But I feels 'ungry, and I suppose that's a good sign."
But there was nothing to eat. They held a bit of a council while the Baker's clothes dried.
"Tell us all about it," said Smith.
But the Baker shook his head.
"Give me a bit of time, old un," he pleaded. "Can you get any tucker, Kitty?"
She said she thought she might get a lizard. But if she did, they might have to eat it raw, for the only matches among them had been in the Baker's possession, and they were wet through. This reminded them of that, and they spread them out to dry.
"Never mind," said Smith cheerfully, "if they are done for. Mrs. Mandeville will make a fire aboriginal fashion."
And she acknowledged that she might be able to do that if she tried, though it was a man's job.
Fortunately, however, there was no necessity for her to attempt it, as they saved at least half a box of the wet matches. Their dinner was made of a particularly objectionable-looking lizard, with spurs and frills, and of a couple of bull-frogs, which Kitty caught near the river. It made their courage rise again.
"And now it's for the coast," said Smith. "D'ye think you can travel, Baker?"