“I want to hurry it along. We’ve got to have a nice big bed of coals before we can do anything. Run up and see about those beans, Bee, like a good fellow. I don’t want them to burn. And you might put one or two small pieces of wood on the fire up there.”
Bee arose with a groan. “Gee, this thing of cooking supper all over the island is no cinch,” he murmured. “I wonder why we didn’t do it right and have two or three more fires scattered around.”
Presently Jack threw off the burning wood and laid a layer of wet seaweed over the glowing bed of embers. On the seaweed he placed the clams, covering them with another layer of seaweed. Then he heaped more wood on top and sat down to wait. Bee returned with the news that the water was coming to a boil in the kettle and that he thought the beans were pretty nearly hot enough because they had burned his finger when he tried them! Jack’s pole was again put to work, the fire was scattered and the top layer of seaweed removed.
“Look at the poor little things!” exclaimed Bee, as the clams were revealed. “They’re gasping for breath!”
“They certainly smell mighty good,” said Hal as Jack gathered them into the tin. “Do you think they’re done, Jack?”
“To a turn. Hurry up and let’s get at them while they’re hot.” At the tent Jack quickly melted some butter and the three boys, by this time almost hungry enough to eat shells and all, set to work. Hal forgot his fears and went at those baked clams as though his life depended on eating his share. Each filled a dish with them, took it into his lap and said nothing for several minutes. At last Bee, disposing of his shells by the simple expedient of tossing them over his head, held out his tin plate.
“More,” he said.
“I don’t see why we haven’t had clams before,” remarked Hal, filling his own plate again. “Shove the butter this way a bit, Jack, will you?”
“I shall be up before sunrise tomorrow,” said Bee, “clamming. How do you catch them, anyway?”