Victuals and drink were the chief of her diet;
This tiresome old woman could never be quiet.’”
Luscious caribou steaks were soon frying, biscuits were baking, and presently the delicious odor of coffee filled the room.
“I always keep coffee here,” explained Amesbury. “Rather have it than tea, but it’s too bulky to carry when I’m hitting the trail.”
“It’s the first smell of coffee I’ve had since we left the ship, and oh, but it smells bully to me!” said Paul.
Candles were lighted, a snowy white cloth spread on the table. When at length they sat down to eat, Amesbury, with bowed head, asked grace.
“’Tis good,” remarked Dan, accepting a liberal piece of caribou meat, “t’ hear un say grace. Dad always says un.”
“I neglect it when I’m on the trail,” said Amesbury. “My father was a preacher. He always said grace at home, and it’s second nature to me to do it when I sit at a table. Part of eating. We mustn’t forget, you know, that we owe what we have to a higher Power, and we shouldn’t forget to give thanks.”
“That’s what Dad would be sayin’, now.” Dan had admired Amesbury before, but this comparison of him with his father was the highest compliment he could have paid him, and indicated the highest regard for his friend.