“Captain,” one of the young men asked, “what’s this savory dish your man is serving us?”
“That,” the captain asserted, without changing a muscle on his weather-browned face, “that’s moose-tongue; moose-tongue from Minnesota. My friend here brought it down.”
“Tied him behind your boat, I suppose?” queried the second guest.
“Oh, no; not at all,” Barker promptly entered into the spirit of the company. “We used him as motive power. He pulled us clear into town.”
The third guest and the boys looked a little puzzled.
“You see,” the trapper quickly explained, “he was a Chippewa moose and dreadfully scared of a Sioux. My friend, Tatanka, here, is a Sioux. Had an awful time getting the beast to stop for camp. Was bound to keep going as long as Tatanka was sitting behind him.”
A ringing laugh went around the table.
“Sir Barker,” the captain took up the conversation, “how many tongues did he have?”
“Well, sir,” the trapper drawled out, “from the noise he could make, I should say about six, sir. He was sure a wonderful beast. We were going to exhibit him in town, but the Quartermaster General took such a liking to him that we had to give him up.”
Again a peal of laughter went around the table.