I said, “Let’s have a feast, let’s feast our eyes on the fish. I can just kind of hear him sizzling over the fire.” “You can’t eat sizzles,” the kid said, very disgusted like. I said, “No, but you can think of them. Let’s all think how fine the fish would taste if we could only cook him. Do you remember how we moved a lunch wagon by the power of our appetites? Maybe we can move the bridge that way.” “You make me tired,” Pee-wee yelled. “If you hadn’t started this crazy—look at the chocolate bars you made us throw away.” “I’d like to have a look at them,” I said. We all perched up on the railing of the bridge, Pee-wee holding the fish under one arm for fear it might flop off the bridge. Safety first. Sitting the way we did we were all facing the shore. There were woods there and dandy places to build a fire. There were twigs and things all around. I said, “It would be fine over there. We could just get that piece of tin Pee-wee was telling us about and gather up some of those nice dry twigs and start a little fire and let the tin get red hot and then lay the fish on it——” “Shut up!” the kid shouted. “Only the trouble is we’re marooned on a desert island,” I said. “Anyway there’s one thing I like and that is adventure. I was always crazy to starve on a desert island.” “You don’t have to tell us you’re crazy,” Pee-wee said. “We followed you back to the sign post,” I told him, “and you promised to cook us a fish. Let’s see you do it. A scout’s honor is to be trusted, he’s supposed to keep his word—scout law number forty-eleven.” “How about diving?” Hervey asked. “It’s the only way to get into the water; there isn’t any way to climb down off this thing; the underneath part of it is way inside.” “Where did you expect it to be? Up in the air?” I asked him. “The underneath part is usually underneath.” “Not always,” Bert said. “Well, anyway,” I said, “I’m not going to risk my life diving into water that I don’t know anything about. Suppose I should break my skull; what good would a fish dinner be to me?” “That’s a good argument,” Garry said. “It’s a peach of an argument,” I told him. “It’s what Pee-wee calls logic. Gee whiz, but I’m hungry.” “Same here,” Bert said. “Same here,” Garry said. “Same here,” Hervey said. “Same here,” Warde said. “I’m as hungry as the whole five of you put together,” our young hero said. “I heard a story that a man can go forty days without food, but you can’t get me to swallow that.” “It’s about the only thing that you wouldn’t swallow,” I told him. “I’m so hungry I’d swallow any argument I ever heard; I’d swallow any kind of a story, especially a fish story.” “There you go again,” Bert said; “what’s the good of reminding us about it?” “I’d swallow a serial story,” I told him; “any kind of cereal, oatmeal, cream of wheat, or anything.” So we just sat there looking across the creek into the woods, and swinging our legs, but we were too hungry to sing.