"Where is it ?" "In my jacket.

I hung it on a stone in the side somewhere here.

Light a match." _Crick--crick--crack_ went the match; then there was a flash, and the sputtering bubbling blue flame of the sulphur, for matches were made differently in those days, when paraffin had not been dreamed of for soaking the wood.
Then the light burned up clearly, and Shock held the splint above his head, and we looked round.
"There ain't no jacket here," said Shock dolefully.

"What did yer say bread and meat for ?" he continued, as the match burned out and he threw it down.

"It's made me feel so hungry.