While a few rods distant, they heard the discharge of a rifle, and in no little trepidation they hastened back to their friends. They were relieved by finding that it had been done by Tim O'Rooney for the purpose of affording a means of ignition to some sticks and leaves. He and the Pah Utah were on shore, making as much preparation for their breakfast as though they had a dozen men to provide for.
"What does yez think of it?" asked Tim.
"All very well, but where is your breakfast?"
The Irishman jerked his thumb in a very significant manner toward Shasta.
"You don't mean to eat him," laughed Elwood.
"Git out wid yer nonsense!" retorted Tim. "He and meself have been talking together, and we've fixed the whole thing."
"What language did you use?"
"This kind of talk."
And the Irishman explained himself by several extravagant but meaningless gestures.
The fire being nicely burning, Shasta took some white crumbs from a sort of receptacle in his hunting-shirt, stepped carefully into the canoe, and then gently dropped them upon the surface of the water. Our friend watched his movements with interest.