Trent took out a plate and helped himself.

"All right," he said. "Be off now. We'll go to-morrow before these
towsly-headed beauties are awake."

Sam nodded and waddled off. Trent threw a biscuit and hit his
companion on the cheek.

"Here, wake up, Monty!" he exclaimed. "Supper's come from the royal
kitchen. Bring your plate and tuck in!"

Monty struggled to his feet and came meekly towards where the pot
stood simmering upon the ground.

"I'm not hungry, Trent," he said, "but I am very thirsty, very
thirsty indeed. My throat is all parched. I am most uncomfortable.
Really I think your behaviour with regard to the brandy is most
unkind and ungenerous; I shall be ill, I know I shall. Won't you - "

"No, I won't," Trent interrupted. "Now shut up all that rot and
eat something."

"I have no appetite, thank you," Monty answered, with sulky dignity.

"Eat something, and don't be a silly ass!" Trent insisted. "We've
a hard journey before us, and you'll need all the strength in your
carcase to land in Buckomari again. Here, you've dropped some of
your precious rubbish."

Trent stooped forward and picked up what seemed to him at first to