Ras's problem was infinitely simpler.

He never changed.

There was much of the original load of hay, Philip said, dispersed about his ears and pockets and fringing the back of his neck.
"Where did you get tomatoes ?" inquired Diane at supper.
"Well," said Philip, "I hate to tell you.

I strongly suspect Ras of spearing 'em with a harpoon he made.

Made it in his sleep, too.