He had cleaned them, wrapped them in fresh, damp leaves, raked aside a portion of the fire that he had kindled when he first arose, buried them in the hot sand beneath it, and covered the spot with live coals.
The oysters had also come from the water, in a great bunch that Has-se had just been able to lift and carry to the fire.

To cook them he had simply placed the entire bunch on the coals, where they had roasted in their shells, which now gaped wide open, offering their contents to be eaten.
The eggs were plover's eggs, of which Has-se had discovered several nests among the tall marsh grass.

They also had been roasted in the hot sand, from which the fire had been raked one side.
The vegetable puzzled Rene considerably, for he had never seen its like, and knew not what to make of it.

When he asked Has-se what it was, the latter laughed, with the soft, musical laugh, peculiar to his people, and answered, "Dost thou not know thy namesake, Ta-lah-lo-ko?
It is the leaf bud of a young palm-tree, and with us Indians it takes the place of bread when we have neither a-chee" (the maize) "nor koonti-katki" (the starch-root).
It was indeed the tender leaf bud of the cabbage-palm, roasted in its own husk, and to Rene it tasted much like roasted chestnuts.
From the shells on the beach he obtained a small quantity of salt, that had been left in them by the evaporated water of some former high tide.
This he wanted for both his fish and his eggs.

Then the two boys sat down to their feast, and ate and laughed and chatted, and enjoyed it so thoroughly that one of them at least thought nothing had ever tasted so good to him before.
After breakfast, as there were no dishes to be washed, and nothing to be packed to carry with them, they were able to resume their journey at once.