The Russian produced a long knife from one of the drawers and cut the piece of meat in two, handing half to Jack. They devoured it ravenously.
“Not so bad,” said Jack, smacking his lips when the last piece had disappeared down his throat. “Tastes funny, though. What do you suppose it was?”
“Horse,” was the brief reply.
Jack gulped and swallowed several times before he could force himself to reply:
“Wha—what’s that?”
“Horse,” repeated Boris. “Didn’t you ever eat horse before?”
“N-n-no, I guess not,” replied Jack, feeling somewhat sick at his stomach.
“It’s good,” said Boris. “Next to a piece of beef, give me a good piece of horseflesh. Why,” noting the queer expression on Jack’s face, “you don’t mean to tell me you don’t like it?”
“I can’t say that I am fond of it,” replied the lad truthfully.
“But——” began Boris.