The flaming meat was then thrust under it so as to heat the spider.

From its thickness, it took some minutes for it to become heated through; but, in the course of a quarter of an hour, Kit pronounced it ready.

Weymouth cut out a chunk of walrus-blubber, with which he basted it, the melted fat collecting in a little puddle at the bottom.
"Now for the eggs!" he exclaimed.
Raed handed them to him, one by one; while he broke them on the edge of the butcher-knife, and dropped a half-dozen into the novel frying-pan.
"Better be getting your plates ready!" he shouted, turning them over with the knife to the tune of a mighty frizzling.
We all took the hint, and scattered to find flat stones for platters.
'Twas a singular assortment of kitchenware that we re-appeared with a few minutes later.

Taking up the fried eggs with his knife, Weymouth tossed us each one, which we caught on our _plates_.

Another batch was then broke into the spider, fried, and distributed like the first.
"Now then!" cried Kit.