That was a most welcome, appetizing, and satisfactory repast. They had not eaten anything for eight hours or so, and the bacon and scorched slices of bread that Harmon called toast and the scalding hot tea vanished rapidly. Even Gladys Ermintrude, while she appeared desirous of impressing the others with the daintiness of her appetite, did full justice to everything. She was inclined to be critical of the tea, explaining that she was accustomed to having lemon with hers instead of condensed milk, until Pud told her, almost impolitely, that if she didn’t like what she was getting she needn’t drink it. Gladys Ermintrude thereupon conquered her distaste and asked for another cup. Food can do miraculous things sometimes. It did on this occasion. It vanished Pud’s irritability, smoothed out the anxious lines on Tim’s forehead, and set Harmon to crooning a song while he cleared away. It also made them entirely reckless in the matter of the fire. Or maybe it was more especially the mosquitoes that did that. Anyway, they piled it high with wood, with apparently no thought for the kidnapers in Pete Minger’s launch, and basked in its welcome warmth. Gladys Ermintrude said it was just like the scene in ‘Haunted Souls,’ where the shipwrecked millionaire and his friends made the fire on the beach and waited for the waves to drown them. Tim retained sufficient energy to inquire why they wanted the waves to drown them, and Gladys Ermintrude explained that there was no escape for them because of the towering cliffs at their back. Tim suggested that they might have proceeded farther along the beach and found a place where the cliffs weren’t so towering, but the girl didn’t seem to think that would have been possible, although she couldn’t explain just why. ‘Say,’ asked Pud, ‘don’t you ever do anything but go to the movies?’ ‘Of course, I do,’ answered Gladys Ermintrude. ‘I attend to my social duties and――and read a great deal; and then, of course, I’m always studying my Art.’ ‘Gee, you must lead a swell life,’ said Pud. ‘What sort of things do you read? Ever read “The Three Musketeers”?’ ‘N-no, I don’t think so. Who wrote it? Mother is very particular about my reading. I’ve read all of Annabel Smothers’ stories; “Lady Lucia’s Diamonds” and “Loved and Lost” and――’ ‘Slush,’ said Pud. ‘They’re not either! They’re beautiful! Maybe you wouldn’t care for them; boys don’t, I guess; they can’t――can’t appreciate sentiment.’ ‘Huh,’ grunted Pud. ‘Mister Pud,’ interrupted Harmon, ‘does I get me some of that there reward?’ ‘What reward?’ ‘What we gets for unkidnapin’ this here girl.’ ‘No, you don’t,’ replied Pud. ‘Nobody gets any reward.’ ‘How-come?’ ‘Because, in the first place, we don’t want any, and, in the second place, because there isn’t any!’ ‘Why!’ gasped Gladys Ermintrude, deeply pained. ‘Ain’ she say her ma goin’ give ten thousan’ dollars for her?’ asked Harmon, puzzled.