Then he opened the linen bag, which Noreen found to contain _atta_, or
native flour. Some of this he poured into the round aluminium dish and with
water from the _pani bel_ he mixed dough, rolled it into balls, and patted
them into small flat cakes. Over the second fire he placed the iron plate,
convex side up, and when it grew hot put the cakes on it.
"How clever of you! You are making _chupatis_ like the natives do,"
exclaimed Noreen. "I love them. I get the cook to give them to us for tea
often."
She watched him with interest and amusement, as he turned the cakes over
with a dexterous flip when one side browned; then, when they were done, he
took them off and piled them on a large leaf.
"Who would ever imagine that you could cook?" Noreen said, laughing. "Do
let me help. I feel so lazy."
"Very well. Look after the _chupatis_ while I get the fowl ready," he
replied.
He cleaned the jungle cock, wrapped it up in a coating of wet clay and laid
it in the hot ashes of the third fire, covering it over with the red
embers.
Just as he had finished the girl cried: "The water is actually boiling? Who
would have believed it possible?"
"Now we are going to have billy tea as they make it in the bush in
Australia," said Dermot, opening the canister and dropping tea from it into
the boiling water.
Noreen gathered up a pile of well-toasted _chupatis_ and turned a smiling,
dimpled face to him.
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