It was still early when we got settled, and George said that, as we had plenty of time, it would be a splendid opportunity to try a good, slap-up supper.

He said he would show us what could be done up the river in the way of cooking, and suggested that, with the vegetables and the remains of the cold beef and general odds and ends, we should make an Irish stew.
It seemed a fascinating idea.

George gathered wood and made a fire, and Harris and I started to peel the potatoes.

I should never have thought that peeling potatoes was such an undertaking.

The job turned out to be the biggest thing of its kind that I had ever been in.