“Two tin plates.
“Bacon.
“Rice—do you like rice? Saccharine tablets. Raisins. Salt and pepper. Egg powder. Got all that down?”
“Yes.”
“All right, the rest will come to me in my sleep. Now let’s see what you’ve got in that fancy bag.” He turned the contents of Gordon’s duffel bag out on the bed. “What in the world is this?”
“That’s a suction pad, Harry.”
“What’s it for?”
“Keep you from falling off cliffs.”
“We’ll cut out the suction pad. Here, eat these apples and get them out of the way. Now, what’s this?”
So he went through the pile of things, approving some, discarding others, yielding here, insistent there, until, as he said, he had reduced Gordon’s freight to a common denominator.