t. The Baby was in the storeroom
adjoining, and discovered the honey pot. It was a "sight." He sat there,
both hands and arms covered with honey, blinking innocently, and licking
his fingers and arms with the greatest joy imaginable.

"You little rascal, you are getting too fat now," was George's greeting;
but Baby didn't mind. He knew George by this time.

The bread raised, but it, too, was a "sight." It was full of holes and
at some places the bread had no appearance of having "come up," which is
kitchen parlance for unraised bread.

"What is the matter with it, Harry?"

"Did you work it before you put it into the oven?"

"I forgot that."

When the Professor saw the sample he divined the trouble at once.

"Of course, you have to work it, for the reason that 'working'
distributes the gases through the mass. I think you made the mistake in
working it and then putting it into the oven immediately."

"How long should it stand after working?"

"That depends on the amount of carbonic gas which is developed. When it
first raises the gas forces its way through the dough irregularly, and
by then working it the gas is broken up and distributed evenly, so that
if the mass is allowed to stand after the second working every part of
it will be leavened. When it is then put into the oven, the heat at
first causes a more rapid expansion, or raising, of the dough, and as
the heat increases, fermentation is stopped, and the baking process sets
the dough. The result is tiny little holes throughout the bread, where
the gases were."

"But why do they use yeast if it can be done without?"

"Because it makes the raising process easier, and more positive."

"Is it the carbonic acid which makes some bread sour?"

"Yes; sour bread results if the fermentation is continued too long."

[Illustration: _Fig. 9. Air Pocket._]

It was George's custom each day to watch the movements of the yaks,
because it was through them that they learned of the barley field which
was such a source of usefulness to them. One day while out on an
expedition of this kind, he wandered down to the rock cliffs, probably
five hundred feet west of Observation Hill, this hill, it will be
remembered, being close to the landing place when they were cast on the
island. The sea was heavy and the tide coming in. He could not help
reflecting, and his home, his parents, and his beautiful life there came
up to his inward vision. The dreary pounding sea made him home