"Then, indeed, you have beat us," said Robert; "but that is only what I expected."
"A deer!" exclaimed the two younger. "O, take us to see it!"
Mooring the boat safely, they hastened with Harold to the scene of slaughter. It was about half a mile distant. There lay a large fat buck, with branching horns, and sleek brown sides. Frank threw himself upon it in an ecstasy of delight; patted, hugged, and almost kissed it. Mary hung back, shrinking from the sight of blood.
"O, cousin Harold," she cried, "what a terrible gash your bullet has made in the poor thing's throat! Just look there!"
Harold laughed. "That was not made by my ball, but by my knife. Hunters always bleed their game, cousin, or it will not look so white, taste so sweet, nor keep so well."
The boys prepared to carry it home. Harold, taking from his bosom the hatchet, cut a long stout pole, and Robert brought some leaves of the silk grass (the yucca filamentosa, whose long narrow leaves are strong as cords), with which the legs of the deer were tied together. Swinging it on the pole between them, they marched homewards.
By this afternoon's excursion they were provided with a delightful supply of fish, crabs, and venison. But, alas! they were compelled to be their own butchers and cooks; and there are certain processes through which these delicacies must pass before being ready for the mouth that are not so agreeable. Mary and Frank brought up the fish, and set about preparing them for supper. They laid each upon a flat root of the tree, and with a knife scraped off the scales. This was dirty work for a nice young lady, but it was necessary to the desired end. She pshawed and pshawed at it as the slimy scales adhered to her fingers, or flew into her face, but she persevered until all was done.
In the meantime the fire had been mended, and water poured into their largest pot. When it began to boil, Mary and Frank dropped in the crabs. Poor creatures! it was a warm reception they met with from their native element. Each one gave a kick at the unwelcome sensation, and then sunk into quiet repose, at the bottom of its iron sepulchre. They remained boiling until their shells were perfectly red, when they were taken out, and piled in a dish for supper.
CHAPTER XIV
FRANK'S EXCUSES--CURING VENISON--MAROONING COOKERY--ROBERT'S VEGETABLE GARDEN--PLANS FOR RETURN---PREPARATION FOR THE SABBATH