that Jenks was astonished.

"Yes," he said, pointing to the dish-cover. "If you polish the top of
that with your sleeve it will serve as a plate. Luncheon is ready."

He neatly dished up two slices of ham on a couple of biscuits and
handed them to her, with the clasp-knife.

"I can depend on my fingers," he explained. "It will not be the first
time."

"Have you led an adventurous life?" she asked, by way of polite
conversation.

"No," he growled.

"I only thought so because you appear to know all sorts of dodges for
prolonging existence--things I never heard of."

"Broiled ham--and biscuits--for instance?"

At another time Iris would have snapped at him for the retort. Still
humbly regretful for her previous attitude she answered meekly--

"Yes, in this manner of cooking them, I mean. But there are other
items--methods of lighting fires, finding water, knowing what fruits
and other articles may be found on a desert island, such as plantains
and cocoanuts, certain sorts of birds--and _bêche-de-mer_."

For the life of her she could not tell why she tacked on that weird