"I bought this thing in Paris," said Jack, "and brought it along, thinking it might be useful. Have thought of it several times since we came up-country, but didn't want the bother of taking it out and setting it up. But it's all right now, and I don't mind the trouble, when we're going to give a reception to ladies."
Jack put the machine in operation in the neighborhood of the cook's quarters, and detailed one of the most intelligent of the men to watch it. In the meantime Harry had taken his fowling-piece and gone out to shoot some quail, which were abundant in the open region a mile or so to the south of the camp. He came back in little more than an hour with a fine string of them, and said he could have bagged enough for a London evening party had there been any occasion to do so. He also shot a bustard, and said it would make a first-rate substitute for turkey.
Our cook was a native of the soil and had not been to Paris for his training in the culinary art. His science was limited to plain stews and broils; but as to anything else he was a failure. We tried him two or three times on making bread, but the article he produced was of a quality that would have been refused by a starving beggar. We set him to work making a stew of the best parts of the young buffalo, and also intrusted him with the broiling of some gemsbok-steaks. The rest of the cooking was supervised by ourselves, and we managed to get along very well, considering our inexperience. We had a very fair quality of bread, which was prepared by Harry overnight and baked in a Dutch oven; and we also drew upon the resources of the wagon for various things. For soup we strained off the thin part of the buffalo-stew, rejecting all the rest. It was not lost, however, as the Kafirs made short work of what was left.
Altogether the menu for our luncheon was as follows:
Buffalo-soup
Gemsbok-steak
Boiled eland's tongue
Cutlets of roast turkey (bustard)
Broiled quail
Salad of South Africa
Bread
Claret
Iced champagne
Tea and coffee
Crackers and cheese
"That wouldn't be a bad lay-out for New York or London, would it?" said Harry, as we went over the list.
"Not by any means," I answered. "I don't believe we'll get through with it and eat heartily of every dish."
"No more do I," said Jack; "and I think we will astonish our visitors by showing what three bachelors can do when left to their own resources."
Everything was ready about noon—the time when our visitors were expected. All the articles were under the supervision of the cook, and he was threatened with instant death in case anything was missing.
While we were waiting for our guests Jack suggested that we might possibly think up something else to add to the feast, but Harry and I deterred him from so doing. He thought he might be able to bring something more out of the recesses of the wagon, but we voted that it would be useless to do so.