We had tried roast 'possum and stewed gopher; we now began to long for a taste of alligator steak. We had heard that to be at all eatable the steak must be taken from the fleshy part of the tail of a young animal before the creature grows large enough to lose its shiny skin; so we were quite delighted one day when we found that Bruno had cornered a young one about four feet long. It was in a little glade about three hundred yards from the house; and as soon as Julius found the cause of Bruno's excitement, he hurried to the house for the axe, and soon put a stop to the creature's demonstrations. He was hissing at Bruno like a whole flock of geese, the while snapping at him with his teeth and striking at him with his tail, which he had a most astonishing way of flourishing around.
When the steak was cut the meat looked white and fine-grained, like the more delicate kinds of fish. When cooked it was very inviting, being a compromise between fish and the white meat of domestic fowls.
We enjoyed it very much and were loud in our praises of alligator steak, but—we didn't want any more!
I cooked the rest of it for Bruno, and he ate one more meal of it; then he struck. We have since heard that most people who try alligator steak have the same experience. A first meal is thoroughly enjoyed, but one not brought up on such a diet never gets beyond the second. It is a useful article of food in southern camp-life, because it makes the campers go back to bacon and beans with renewed relish. The same may be said of roast 'possum and stewed gopher,—that is, for the human campers.
Just before our house was ready for us, while we were still living in the little shanty, I noticed one night when Julius came in that he was empty-handed. He had been in the habit of bringing his tools home every evening; so I asked,—
"What have you done with the saws and things?"
"I left them under the building," he answered, "wrapped in an old coat I had there. They will be perfectly safe, and I am tired of carrying them."
I was always glad when he had discovered an easier way of doing things; so I made no objection to this, and went on preparing the evening meal, for which we three were ready. Bruno had been over at the new house all the afternoon; so I waited on him first, seeing that his water-basin was full to the brim and heaping a plate with food for him. Then Julius and I sat down with keenest enjoyment to such a meal as we would have scorned in our old home, but which our open-air life in the pine-woods made exceedingly welcome. Afterwards I cleared the table, and we sat down to our usual evening of reading, interrupted with occasional snatches of conversation.
Bruno lay at our feet—dozing when we were quiet, thumping the floor with his tail whenever we spoke. Towards nine o'clock he got up, shook himself, sighed deeply, then asked me in his usual manner to open the door for him. This was the way he asked. He rested his head on my knee until I looked up from my book. Then his tail began to wag, and he glanced quickly from me to the door, then back at me again. I asked,—
"Boonie want to go?"