While Dan turned the birds now and again they planned feasts and talked of good things they had eaten and longed to eat again, until Dan finally announced:
“Well, they’s done.”
“It was just enough to make me hungrier,” declared Paul when the last morsel had been eaten, even to the tender bones, and thoroughly enjoyed, though they had no salt for seasoning.
Dan reached over for the entrails, wound one upon the end of each stick, and, handing Paul one of the sticks, began to broil his own over the coals.
“What you going to do with them?” asked Paul.
“Eat ’em,” announced Dan. “You remember th’ way th’ huskies done? I’m thinkin’ if they’s good for huskies they’s good for us.”
“I don’t know,” said Paul, hesitating. Then like one plunging into a cold bath he followed Dan’s example, remarking, as he watched the swelling, sputtering things: “It’s funny the way people change. When I saw the Eskimos eat them I thought it was a terrible thing to do, but it doesn’t seem so bad now.”
“Dad says folks can eat most anything if they’s hungry enough.”
“I guess he’s right.”
“They’re not so bad,” said Dan, tasting an end of his.