Rob, meanwhile, had produced a small blue tin, and was opening it. The three strangers looked on with an amused curiosity. Rob sniffed the contents, assured himself that it was fresh, and with his knife blade dug out a chunk for each member of the party.
“Gee, is that all I get for lunch?” said Frank, contemplating the piece in his hand, no bigger than an English walnut.
“It’ll be all you’ll want, believe me,” said Peanut.
“And all you need to stop your hunger and nourish you till night,” Rob added. “That’s condensed food.”
Peanut took his piece over to the three men. “I’ll swap this excellent and nourishing morsel for a ham sandwich,” he said.
The men laughed. “You will not!” one of them answered, hastily stuffing the last of his sandwich into his mouth. “I’ve tried that before, myself. If you’ve got a little water to soften it up in, and a bit of bread to put it on, it’s not so bad, at that.”
One of the other men passed over a sandwich—but not to Peanut. He gave it to Rob. “Divide the bread,” he said. “It’ll make your rations go better.”
Each boy, then, got a third of a slice of bread, and a tiny morsel of ham. On this they put their chunk of emergency rations, softened with the last of the water from the canteens, and began to eat. Nobody seemed to be enjoying the food very much, but their expressions grew less pained the longer they chewed.
“Beats all how long you can chew this before it disappears,” said Lou. “Gets sweeter, too.”
“Maybe that’s the bread. Bread almost turns to sugar if you chew and chew it without swallowing,” said Rob. “But this pemmican stuff certainly is filling.”