"As for me," I declared, "I shall eat fish every day of my life
out of pure gratitude."
"You'll do it out of pure necessity," Harry put in, "if you don't
get busy."
It took us three hours of whacking and slashing and tearing to
pull the fish to pieces, but we worked with a purpose and a will.
When we had finished, this is what we had to show: A long strip
of bone, four inches thick and twelve feet long, and tough as
hickory, from either side of which the smaller bones projected at
right angles. They were about an inch in thickness and two inches
apart. The lower end of the backbone, near the tail, we had
broken off.
We examined it and lifted it and bent it half double.
"Absolutely perfect!" Harry cried in jubilation. "Three more
like this and we'll sail down the coast to Callao."
"If we can get 'em," I observed. "But two would do. We could
make it a triangle."
Harry looked at me.
"Paul, you're an absolute genius. But would it be big enough to
hold us?"
We discussed that question on our way back to camp, whither we
carried the backbone of our fish, together with some of the meat.
Then, after a hearty meal, we slept.
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