“I never tire of the mountains,” said Alex, “and I’ve lived among them many years.”
“I’d like to be a hunter,” Rob began.
“Not to-day,” rejoined Alex. “Our people can’t make a living that way now. We have to buy things of the Company, and pay for them with our furs and robes. But we’ll be hunters for this time, sure, with meat in camp and two fine heads as well. I wish we could eat some to-night.”
“Why, why can’t we?” demanded John, who looked as though he could eat a good-sized piece quite raw.
“We could if we had to,” said Alex, “but the meat will be better if we let it hang over night. If we ate too much of the very fresh meat it might make us sick.”
“Men eat bear liver the day it is killed.”
“Yes, white men do, but not many Indians will eat bear liver at all. We can try some of the sheep liver, if you like, for I’ve brought it down in the packs. For that matter, it won’t hurt us maybe to try a little piece of meat roasted on a stick before the fire, the way the Indians cook. That, with a bit of bacon and some bannock that I’ll make, will do us, if we have a cup of tea. You see, I’ve a little can along which I got in Moise’s cook-bag.”
“I don’t see how you’re going to make bread,” began John, “for you haven’t got any pan.”
“No, Injuns don’t always have pans like white people,” said Alex, laughing, “but I’ll show you. I’ll use the flour-sack for a pan—just pour the water right in on the flour and mix it up in the sack. All outdoor men know that trick. An Injun would take a stick and roll around in that white dough and roast that dough ball before the fire along with his meat,” he said, “but I think by taking a slab of bark we can cook our bannock somehow, a little bit, at least, as though we had a pan to lean up before the fire.”