eaks are going
to be as tender as chicken. If you will not give me away to Chris, I
will show you the reason why."

The captain and Walter eagerly gave the promise of secrecy.

"See that shrub?" said the instructor, pointing to a banana-like stalk
of a tree-like shrub without branches, but from which protruded large,
round glossy leaves with short stems. Close to its trunk near the
crown hung a close cluster of golden fruit about the size of an apple.

Walter plucked one of the ripe fruit and bit into it hungrily, but spat
out the mouthful in disgust.

"You have to acquire a taste for it, the same as you have to for turtle
eggs, olives, and a dozen other things that taste unpleasant at first,"
Charley said. "You'll find that little tree scattered all over Florida
where the soil is at all rich. It is called pawpaw by the natives, who
regard it highly for the sake of its one peculiar virtue. A few drops
of the juice of its ripe fruit spread over a tough Florida steak will
in a few minutes, make it as tender as veal. The same results can be
attained by wrapping the steak in the leaves and letting it lay a
slightly longer time. The best of it is that meat treated in this
manner is not injured in the slightest. In fact it seems to gain in
flavor from the treatment. But there is Chris waving to us. Keep
quiet about the pawpaws. I want to hear his explanation."

They were too hungry to lose any time in obeying Chris' signals. The
little darky had arranged a kind of tablecloth of moss on the ground
and had put upon it slabs of clean cut bark for plates, while upon each
rude plate reposed a thick, juicy, bear steak, done to a turn. The
steak was delicious and tender as chicken and with a taste all its own.

"You're a born cook, Chris," declared Walter, as he paused to take a
full breath. "What makes it so tender, now? that which we cooked was
tough as leather."

"You chillens doan know how to cook like dis nigger," declared the vain
little darky, proudly. "Hit's all in de cookin', Massa Walter, hit's
all in de cookin'."

Charley turned over a morsel of his steak, examined it closely and
sniffed it critically, while Chris watched him with anxious suspicion,
and Walter with mischief dancing in his eyes.

Slowly Charley's eyes took on an absent, far-away look, his arms and
legs seemed to stiffen, and a tremor ran through his limbs. Chris
watched him with distending eyeballs.

"I see," Charley said, in a