I'll send Ras over with your supper.

But if it seems to be getting late, look him up.

He may fall asleep." After repeated indignant refusals which Mr.Poynter characteristically splintered, Diane, intensely curious, went with Mr.Poynter to the hay-camp for supper.
Now although the somnolent Ras had been shuffling drowsily about a fresh fire with no apparent aim, he presently contrived to produce a roasted chicken, fresh cucumbers, some caviare and rolls, coffee and cheese and a small freezer of ice cream, all of which he appeared to take at intervals from under the seat of the hay-cart.
"Ice cream and caviare!" exclaimed the girl aghast.

"That's treason." "I've my own notions of camping," admitted Philip, "and really our way is exceedingly simple and comfortable.

Ras loads up the seat pantry at the nearest village and then we cast off all unnecessary ballast every morning.