During the time occupied by this conversation the women had busied themselves in preparing the meal. In every direction small fires were burning and the atmosphere was so perfumed with the smell of the viands, that despite their hurry all became anxious to satisfy the cravings of their stomachs. At last the whole company, divided into small parties, sat or rather lay down around the mats upon which the various dishes were spread. There were heaps of steaming rice, boiled nearly snow white and perfectly dry. Numerous saucers and leaves stood close by filled with delicacies. The venison of the buck shot by Schlickeisen that morning, appeared under different disguises and was thoroughly enjoyed by all. On the mat occupied by the Europeans there was a brass pot covered with a wooden lid. At first it had escaped their attention, but now that their appetites had been somewhat sated their curiosity became excited. “What might that contain?” La Cueille asked. “Only soup,” Johannes replied, “they have heard that in Bandjermasin it is generally eaten and the women have prepared it as a surprise for us.” “Soup?” Schlickeisen asked. “Well, you ought to have told us of it before, when we might have begun our meal with a plateful. But, no matter, it will be equally acceptable now,” and drawing the pot towards him, he removed the lid and greedily inhaled the delicious aroma of the concoction. He dipped a spoon in it and was on the point of filling a cocoanut shell when he suddenly dropped the ladle, took a wooden fork, and with it fished up something which on being exhibited caused all excepting Johannes to fall back in disgust. Fixed between the prongs of the fork there was something not unlike the dissected head of an infant to which, when lifted out, there were attached two arms with well-shaped hands. Speechless and horror-struck, Wienersdorf and the Walloon kept staring at Schlickeisen, who, almost paralyzed, stood there with the fork in his hand. “What is the matter now?” Johannes asked. “Don’t you see?” was the panting reply of La Cueille. “What? This soup? Certainly I see it, and very nice it smells.” “They mean to make cannibals of us!” the Walloon cried. “Never! never!!” “Cannibals?” Johannes asked innocently. “Now don’t play the fool with me,” and pushing Schlickeisen aside he filled his cup with the highly flavored soup, brought it to his lips and emptied it. “Ha!” he said, stopping for breath, “delicious!” “How could you!” Wienersdorf remarked. “Has man become totally wild in this country?” “How could I do what?” Johannes asked surprised. “Swallow that human soup!” “Human soup?” “Yes, human soup; don’t you see that baby which Schlickeisen has fished up?” Johannes had gained his end; those stupid Europeans were nicely sold. He burst out laughing. “Ha! ha! ha! human soup. You never get such fare in Europe, not even in the best Parisian restaurants. Capital!” he roared. “I shall laugh myself to death.”