quickly came the answer he feared.

"Oh," said Eric in an off-hand way, "I opened the cask Captain Brown
gave us and roasted a piece over the fire."

"But, that was salt meat!" ejaculated Fritz in consternation.

"Well, what matter?" rejoined Eric; "I suppose it was as good to roast
as any other. Besides, we didn't have any fresh."

Fritz heaved a sigh of despair.

"Let us try it, anyhow," he said in a melancholy tone, and Eric having,
carved off with extreme difficulty a knob--it could be called nothing
else--of the black mass in the mess tin he had before him, handed the
plate containing it over to Fritz, who, sawing off a fragment,
endeavoured to chew it unsuccessfully and then had finally to eject it
from his mouth.

"Good heavens, Eric!" he exclaimed, "it's as hard as a brickbat, as salt
as brine, and burnt up as thoroughly as a piece of coke. How could you
even think of trying to roast a bit of salt junk? Why, your own
experience of the article on board ship should have told you better!"

"Well, I know it is tough when boiled; but I fancied it might be better
roasted for a change. I'm very sorry, old fellow, but, still, we
haven't come to the end of our resources yet; I have got another dish to
surprise you."

"I hope not in the same way!" said Fritz with a shudder. "What is the
other string to your bow, eh, Mr Cook?"

"A stew," replied Eric laconically.

"Ho, that sounds better," said his brother, the complacent look which
had stolen over his face on sitting down to the banquet now returning
again in the expectation of having something savoury at last. "A stew,
eh? Why, that used to be my favourite dish at home; don't you remember,
laddie?"

"Yes, I remember," responded Eric, not quite so joyously as his brother
evidently expected; "but," he added hesitatingly, "you'll find this a
little different, because, ah, you know, ah, I hadn't got all the proper
things. Still, it's very nice, very nice indeed!"

The amateur cook brought out the last words with great earnestness, as
if wishing to impress Fritz with the fact that, although the dish might
not be quite what he expected, yet it would be certainly "tasty"--that
is, according to his notions!

It was; for, hardly had Fritz tasted a spoonful of it, than he spat it
out again, making the most terrible faces.

"Why, this is worse than the other!" he cried rather angrily. "What on
earth have you made it of. Eric?"

"Well, I put in some por