bird placed on the bottom and covered with sand, and they essayed to obtain a light.
"We must get the driest brushwood we can find," said Walter; and this was by no means easy, for the light rain was very penetrating and had wet nearly everything. But at last they had what they wanted, and the pistol was discharged in some lint torn from the inside of Walter's jacket. The flash of the weapon was followed by a tiny blaze which Si nursed with tenderest care, and soon they had a roaring fire, which, however, they kept well hidden by the rocks and by some sods they had torn up. The fire made the hollow fairly dry and comfortable, and the rain kept the smoke well down among the trees, so that it was not likely to be seen.
It was an impatient pair of young tars that waited for the cormorant to be done baking, and Si wanted to get at the meat long before it was finished according to Walter's notion. The little fish had been put beside the bird and both baked together.
"Kind o' tough," said the Yankee lad, when the food was brought forth and cut, or rather, torn up, for they were without a knife. "And tastes kind o' salty, too."
"I believe only the young of the cormorant are
