This pleased me. If he had such a longing for food I thought it a good sign, and said so.
But, alas! there was no mutton chop to be got there. There are mountain sheep—-bighorns, moufflons—up in the hills. How could I leave him to stalk one? But I thought I might shoot him a grouse for a change. Salmon he was heartily sick of; the tinned things were very good for men in health, but not for an invalid. I had broiled him a bit of bear meat lately, which he enjoyed. I did so again and again, till he was tired of that.
So I took down my gun one day, said I would not be long away. I thought I would go up and kill a bird.
I went up the creek to a clump of thick spruce I knew of, feeling sure I should find some there, but instead out leapt a half-grown deer!
I brought him down, luckily. I could just manage to pack him home. I was back again within an hour. Meade smiled a welcome. "I heard you shoot," said he, "the rifle barrel. What did you get?"
I would not tell him. I said he must wait and see. The little buck was fat. I cut out a chop—it looked just like a mutton chop—I broiled it at a fire I lit outside, and brought it to him. He was delighted, he was charmed, and with tears in his eyes he thanked me again and again. And there were tears in my eyes too!
For several days he enjoyed what he called mutton. I had hung it outside to freeze, where everything was frozen. I varied his food—bear meat, deer meat, salmon; salmon, bear meat, deer meat—and in between I gave him some of the canned things that he fancied.
For weeks matters went on like this. It was five since the accident, when I noticed a decided change in him, and it was not for the better!
It was by that time winter. All green things but the pines and spruces were frozen and dead. Snow covered all the high lands, and even the flats were drifted with it. The still water everywhere was frozen; only our creek still ran, and there were still fish in it. I don't know what possessed me—thank God, something did—but I took the notion to secure some of these salmon.
It was easily done. I rolled a few logs and brush into a narrow place, then went up stream and drove the fish down, and many became entangled there. I dragged out half-a-dozen and slung them in the trees about our den.