watched the preparations with a curious eye. It struck him
that perhaps the air, in its strangely modified condition,
would fail to supply sufficient oxygen, and that.
the stove, in consequence, might not fulfill its function.
But no; the fire was lighted just as usual, and fanned into
vigor by Ben Zoof applying his mouth in lieu of bellows,
and a bright flame started up from the midst of the twigs and coal.
The skillet was duly set upon the stove, and Ben Zoof
was prepared to wait awhile for the water to boil.
Taking up the eggs, he was surprised to notice that they hardly
weighed more than they would if they had been mere shells;
but he was still more surprised when he saw that before the water
had been two minutes over the fire it was at full boil.

"By jingo!" he exclaimed, "a precious hot fire!"

Servadac reflected. "It cannot be that the fire is hotter,"
he said, "the peculiarity must be in the water." And taking
down a centigrade thermometer, which hung upon the wall,
he plunged it into the skillet. Instead of 100 degrees,
the instrument registered only 66 degrees.

"Take my advice, Ben Zoof," he said; "leave your eggs in the saucepan
a good quarter of an hour."

"Boil them hard! That will never do," objected the orderly.

"You will not find them hard, my good fellow. Trust me, we shall
be able to dip our sippets into the yolks easily enough."