Meanwhile Messrs. Simmons and Long, assisted by the devoted Bogud, had been sorting their minerals’ in a general way, and wrapping each specimen in paper. Two good-sized baskets were filled, and many of them were very fine indeed. There were some fern prints, and some tracks of birds on sandstone, which Mr. Long had found, and which he regarded with the tenderest admiration. There was a very excellent amethyst, found by Mr. Simmons, some mica, some barytes, and, above all, a piece of quartz, in which faint flecks of gold were visible. It was taken from a vein which ran up the cliff, and was a foot or more in thickness. It seemed to promise a rich gold harvest to any one who might choose to try gold-crushing in so remote a place. The tender interest excited by all these treasures, and the occupation of putting them into separate baskets, had so fully engrossed their thoughts, that they had not noticed any particular delay. At last, however, the work was done; and then it was that Mr. Long thought about the claims of appetite. He started to his feet. “What!” he cried, as he looked around; “not ready yet? Why, what’s the matter?” “In a minute,” said Sammy Ram Ram. “Yes, yes--in a minute,” chimed in Johnny Blue. “A minute? Well, that’s longer than I can wait. So come along, all of us!” said Mr. Long, advancing to the place where a cloth had been spread. The rest all followed. There was a very meagre repast--in fact, but the beginning of a repast--before them. “Come, hurry up!” said Mr. Long, as he and Mr. Simmons, followed by the rest, threw themselves on the grass around the table-cloth. “Fetch along some of the turkey and chickens quick!” There was no response. Sammy and Johnny both stood looking excessively guilty. “Come, hurry up! We can’t eat ham and-biscuit. Why, what’s the matter?” “Why--there--there isn’t any,” stammered Sammy. “What’s that?” cried Mr. Long. “The turkey--it’s all gone, sir.” “Gone!” cried Mr. Long, in amazement. “What do you mean?” And twelve astonished faces confronted the cook and steward. “Why, sir,” said the cook, “you see we ate a good many before we started.” “Yes, sir. There were eight turkeys eaten that evening and next morning.” “And fifteen chickens, sir.” “And ten mince pies,” added the steward, gathering courage at the sound of his own voice. “And all the cheese,” responded the cook. “And most of the tarts.” “And a good deal of the cake.” “And a good many of the ham sandwiches, and half of the eggs, and--” “And ever so much ginger beer.” “The boys were, eating, sir, steadily through the night.” “And through the next day, till they got sick, and couldn’t eat any more.” To this all present listened in the utmost astonishment, and without saying a single word. “So we ate most of the things before we left--did we?” asked Mr. Long, with a sour smile. “Yes, sir.” “How many turkeys did we leave with?” “Seven, sir.” “And how many chickens?” “Four, sir.” “And how many mince pies?”