"I am." "How do you happen to know how to cook, then?" "I was brought up on the upper Missouri, where we had to do our own cooking." "Yes, Phil is a regular Indian fighter," laughed the skipper. "What, this young man?" "Yes, he has shot a thousand Indians in his day, and scalped them?" "Phil?" "Call it two or three," I added. "And we never were in the habit of scalping them." "Don't spoil a good story, Phil." "We used to speak the truth in the woods, even when we were joking." "Well, don't be too severe on us. We only speak the truth here when we are addressing ladies." "Just reverse the proposition, and it would be more correct," said Marian. "What shall we have for dinner?" I asked. "Miss Collingsby must settle that point," answered the skipper. "Give us a _fricandeau de veau_, and _beignets de pomme_." "_Nous n'avons pas des pommes_," I replied. "Is it possible! Do you speak French?" exclaimed Miss Collingsby. "_Un peu_." "Of course I did not mean what I said," laughed the gay young lady. "I will have just what you happen to have. I did not think any one would understand what I said." "I certainly did not," added Mr. Waterford. "I know no language but English, and only a little of that." "I think I can make a _fricandeau_," I continued, "if I have the material." "We have beef, ham, mutton, pork, potatoes, bread, cake, and crackers on board." "Let us have a plain beefsteak, then," said the lady. "_Avec pommes de terre, frits?_" I asked. "_Oui, Monsieur Cuisinier_. What a prodigy you must be, Mr. Phil! You can keep books, cook, and talk French." "And sail a boat as well as the best of them," added Mr. Waterford. "By the way, Phil, have you any of those things on board that you mentioned?" "What things?" "I don't know." "_Pommes de terre_," suggested Miss Collingsby. "You said we had. I haven't looked over the stores." "I said so? Not if I was awake." "You stupid!" laughed the lady. "They are potatoes." "O, are they? Then we have plenty of them. They say that a rose by any other name smells as sweet; and I suppose a potato in any other language tastes the same. Very well. Get up a good dinner, Phil; one fit for a queen--for a queen is to eat it." "How silly!" said Miss Collingsby, as I went below. "Better and fairer than any queen." "I declare, Mr. Waterford, you are becoming insufferable. I shall have to go down there and help Phil get dinner. Besides, I want to talk French with him. And I want to see the kitchen." I passed through the cabin into the little cook-room, in the forecastle, where I lighted the fire. CHAPTER XVI. IN WHICH PHIL PROMISES NOT TO DESERT MISS COLLINGSBY.