“You can count me out on owl, too,” Richards volunteered.
“Oh! they’re all right,” I assured them. “The Labrador people always eat them and you’ll find them very nice.”
“Not me. Owl eat mice,” Pete insisted.
“Well,” I suggested, “possibly we’ll be eating mice, too, before we get home, and it’s a good way to begin by eating owl—for then the mice won’t seem so bad when we have to eat them.”
Stanton took charge of the kettle and dished out the rations that night.
“Partridge is good enough for me,” said Richards, fearing that Stanton might forget his prejudice against owl.
“Me, too,” echoed Pete.
“I’ll take owl,” said I.
Easton said nothing.
After we had eaten, Stanton asked: “How’d you like the partridge, Richards?”