“The usual way of doing it,” Martin explained, “is to pack your sled as firmly as you can, and then draw a canvas over it and lash it down. And that is a very good way, too. But this bag arrangement beats it in every way, particularly in taking care of the little things that are likely to spill out and be lost. With this bag there is no losing anything, big or little. You simply pack the big things on the bottom, and then instead of having to fool around half an hour fastening the little things on and freezing your fingers while you do it, you throw them all in on top, close up the end of the bag, and strap it down tight. You see it will ride then wherever the sled goes, for it is a part of the sled itself.”
Larry noticed that most of the larger parcels on the sled were done up in long, slender bags, and labeled. Martin explained that the bags were all made of waterproof material, and carefully sealed, and that narrow bags could be packed more firmly and rode in place better than short, stubby ones. A large proportion of these bags were labeled “Pemmican” and the name excited the boy’s curiosity.
“It’s something good to eat, I know,” he said; “but what is it made of, Martin?”
“It’s an Indian dish that made it possible for Peary to reach the Pole,” Martin assured him. “It is soup, and fish, and meat and vegetables, and dessert, all in one—only it hasn’t hardly any of those things in it. If you eat a chunk of it as big as your fist every day and give the same sized chunk to your dog, you won’t need any other kind of food, and your dog won’t. It has more heat and nourishment in it, ounce for ounce, than any other kind of food ever invented. That’s why I am going to haul so much of it on our sleds.”
While he was talking he had slit open one of the bags and showed Larry the contents, which resembled rather dirty, tightly pressed brown sugar.
“Gee, it looks good!” the boy exclaimed. “Let’s have some of it for supper.”
“You needn’t wait for supper,” Martin told him. “Eat all you want of it, we’ve got at least a ton more than we can carry away with us.” And he cut off a big lump with his hunting knife and handed it to the boy.
Larry’s mouth watered as he took it. He had visions of maple-sugar feasts on this extra ton of Indian delicacy close at hand, as he took a regular boy’s mouthful, for a starter. But the next minute his expression changed to one of utmost disgust, and he ran to the water pail to rinse his mouth. He paused long enough, however, to hurl the remaining piece at the laughing hunter. But Martin ducked the throw, while Kim and Jack, the dogs, raced after the lump, Kim reaching it first and swallowing it at a gulp.
“What made you change your mind so suddenly?” the old hunter asked when he could get his breath. “You seemed right hungry a minute ago, and I expected to see you eat at least a pound or two.”
“Eat that stuff!” Larry answered, between gulps from the water bucket. “I’d starve to death before I’d touch another grain of it.”