“When you mush?” demanded Anvik.
“We don’t have mush. We have bacon and beans, and tin biscuit and coffee, and plenty of other things, but no mush,” answered the Professor.
The store-keeper laughed heartily.
“He doesn’t mean something to eat. Mush means march or move, a corruption of the French-Canadian ‘marché.’ He means when are you going to set out.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the Professor.
“I thought you were an Indian, Professor?” said Tad laughingly. “I guess if we depend upon you for interpreter we shall get left.”
“Of course I don’t understand this jargon.”
“Of course you don’t,” agreed Butler.
“I doubt if any other persons do outside of the locality itself. You see this jargon is purely local and–”
“That’s what the doctor said about a pain I had once,” interjected Stacy. “But it hurt just the same.”