With this he pried open the strong outer cover and revealed the contents--regulation boxes of Lee-Metford ammunition, each containing 500 rounds.
"Ah!" he cried, "now we want some rifles." "What good would they be ?" inquired Iris.
He softly denounced himself as a fool, but he answered at once: "To shoot birds, of course, Miss Deane.

There are plenty here, and many of them are edible." "You have two revolvers and some cartridges." "Yes.

They are useful in a way, but not for pot hunting." "How stupid of me! What you really need is a shot-gun." He smiled grimly.

At times his sense of humor forced a way through the outward shield of reserve, of defiance it might be.
"The only persons I ever heard of," he said, "who landed under compulsion on a desert island with a ship-load of requisites, were the Swiss Family Robinson." "Good gracious!" cried Iris irrelevantly; "I had not even thought of Robinson Crusoe until this moment.

Isn't it odd?
I--we--" She pulled herself up short, firmly resolved not to blush.