Jonas showed those who had forks how to strike them deep into the beds, and the boys were apt scholars; so that by the time the rocks were well heated, and the sea-weed gathered, there were clams enough piled up on the shore to furnish a feast even for such a crowd of boys.
While the clams were slowly baking under their sea-weed cover, Jonas and his Friday pitched their cook-tent, set up their stove, and baked biscuits to be eaten with the clams.
Long before the roast was pronounced "done," the boys were on hand waiting for the sea-weed to be removed, and a hungrier pack of young savages never danced around a clam-pile.
A barrel of biscuits had been opened on their first arrival at the island, and the boys had "taken the sharp edge off their appetite," as they said, by eating them; otherwise Jonas would never have been able to bring those clams to the stage of perfection that he did.
"Come, Jonas! they are done to a turn!" cried the impatient boys.
"They will lose all their goodness in that good smell," said Joe, sniffing the air.
All noses went up, and fifty boys gave a prolonged "Ah! Isn't that gul--orious?"
It did seem that Jonas was provokingly slow in testing those clams; but at last he said, in his drawling way, "Well, now, I reckon them'll do!"
The boys cheered this remark, and hastened to offer their assistance in removing the sea-weed; but Jonas declined their offer in a most decided way.
"Now, you just move off, every boy of you! or you shan't have a clam. Off with you, till I get 'em out in piles, and give every one a fair chance!"