I hope you'll have better luck." While he was delivering this harangue, Carew had been taking notes of the establishment.

There was just a rough table, three boxes to sit on, a meat safe, a few buckets, and a rough set of shelves, supporting a dipper and a few tin plates, and tins of jam, while in the corner stood some rifles and a double-barrelled gun.

Saddlery of all sorts was scattered about the floor promiscuously.
Certainly the owner of No Man's Land had not lived luxuriously.

A low galvanised-iron partition divided the house into two rooms, and through the doorway could be seen a rough bunk made of bags stretched on saplings.
As the old man finished speaking, Ah Loy brought in the evening meal--about a dozen beautifully tender roast ducks in a large tin dish, a tin plate full of light, delicately-browned cakes of the sort known as "puftalooners," and a huge billy of tea.

There were no vegetables; pepper and salt were in plenty, and Worcester sauce.