ll with his back half-turned
to me.

"The nasty, cruel brute!" I said to myself, for it seemed as if he were
doing this out of wantonness, and I was blaming myself for not
interfering to save the poor things from their painful death, when a
thought flashed across my mind, and I stood there silently watching him.

I had not long to watch for proof.

Taking a scrap of paper from his pocket, Shock opened it, and I saw what
it contained. Then taking a monstrous pin from out of the edge of his
jacket, he picked up one of the snails with his left hand, used the pin
cleverly, and dragged out one of the creatures from its shell, reduced
to about half its original size, blew it, dipped it in the paper of
salt, and, to my horror and disgust, ate it.

Before I had recovered from my surprise he had eaten another and
another, and he was busy over the sixth when an ejaculation I uttered
made him turn and see me.

He stared at me, pin in one hand, snail-shell in the other, for a moment
in mute astonishment; then, turning more away from me, he went on with
his repast, and began insultingly to throw the shells at me over his
head.

I bore it all for a few minutes in silence; then, feeling qualmish at
the half-savage boy's meal, I caught one of the shells as it came, and
tossed it back with such good aim that it hit him a smart rap on the
head.

He turned sharply round with a vicious look, and seemed as if about to
fly at me.

"What are you doing?" I cried.

He had never spoken to me before, and he seemed to hesitate now, staring
at me as if reluctant to use his tongue, but he did speak in a quick
angry way.

"Eatin'; can't you see?"

I had questioned him, but I was quite as much surprised at hearing an
answer, as at the repast of which he was partaking.

I stared hard at him, and he gave me a sidelong look, after which he
gave three or four of the snails a thrust with a bit of stick to where
they would cook better, took up another, and wriggled it out with the
pin.

I was disgusted and half nauseated, but I could not help noticing that
the cooked snail did not smell badly, and that instead of being the wet,
foaming, slimy thing I was accustomed to see, it looked dried up and
firm.

At last, with a horrified look at the young savage, I exclaimed:

"Do you know those are snails?"

"Yes. Have one?"

He answered quite sharply, and I took a step back, for I had not had my
breakfast. I was rather disposed to be f