"But how is we goin' to cook 'em widout no fire? Massa Chas?" demanded Chris.
Walter and the captain gazed at him in dismay. In their pleasure at the prospect of food they had never thought of the lack of fire. Their matches were spoiled and useless. They had no steel and flint. They did not even have a bit of glass with which to focus the rays of the sun.
Charley viewed their dismayed faces with a twinkle in his eyes.
"If you will take a couple of those frogs legs and see if you can catch some fish, Chris, I will see to the fire," he said.
Selecting a great root that was slightly hollowed on top, he built up a little heap of dry twigs, moss, and bits of bark, of which the trees around them offered an unlimited supply. Then he brought out from its resting place the box of batteries. Holding the ends of the wires down in the little heap of tinder, he rubbed them together. Sparks flew out on the bark and moss as the wires contacted and in a few seconds the heap was aflame. It only remained to put a few dry sticks on the blaze and the fire was ready for the cooking. Small branches sharpened at the end served for spits and in a few minutes a score of frogs legs were roasting over the coals.
The odor wafted on the air brought Chris hurrying from his fishing. His hunger had overcome his patience. He did not come quite empty-handed, however, but dragged along with him two slender-bodied, long-snouted fish fully four feet in length, covered with armor-like scales.
"Dem things is all I could catch, Massa Chas," he said, ruefully. "I don't reckon dey's any good?"
"Those are gars," Charley announced. "There are better-flavored fish, still, they are not to be despised. They will go well with the frogs legs for dinner."
His method of cooking them was simple. He removed the entrails, washed them out carefully, and buried them amongst the coals. While the legs and gars were cooking, he dispatched Chris down to the shore again to find some bits of the yacht's planking to serve as plates. By the time the little darkey returned laden with bits of boards, the repast was ready. The gars were raked out on a plank, and their scale-armored skin stripped off, leaving the flesh white as snow, juicy and tender.
The four attacked the savory fish and delicious frogs legs with the appetites of wolves for they had eaten nothing for a day and night.