They were still discussing the situation when Miss Evans, having
finished her afternoon nap, threw open the flaps of her tent and
stepped out.
When she had listened to the account apologetically submitted by
her three friends, she drew her brows together, saying,
plaintively: "Oh dear! We've been going short for a week, and
Major Ramos told me we'd fare better when we got here. I had my
mouth all set for a banquet. Couldn't you even find the poor dog a
bone?"
Norine was thinner and browner than when she had come to Cuba, but
she in no way showed the effect of any serious or continued lack
of nourishment. In fact, a simple diet and an outdoor life had
agreed with her amazingly.
"I'm afraid the cupboard is bare," O'Reilly acknowledged.
"They're getting ready to slaughter another guttapercha ox,"
Branch said, gloomily. "He's a veteran of the Ten Years' War. That
means STEW again! STEW! One puncture-proof, rubber ox and a bushel
of sweet-potatoes for four hundred men!"
"Do you know what I want for dinner?" Norine inquired. "Lamb chops
with green peas, some nice white bread, a salad, and coffee."
The three men looked at her anxiously. Judson stirred uneasily.
"That's what I want. I don't expect to get it."
With a sigh of relief the captain exclaimed, "I thought you were
giving your order.
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