"Indians? Do you cook Indians?" asked Stacy, who had been an interested listener to the conversation.
"Wha—wha—cook Indians? No! I cook mutton. What do you take me for?"
"I—I—I didn't know," muttered Stacy meekly. "Thought I heard you say you did."
"You got another think coming," growled the cook, limping away. "Come over here and take a sniff at this kettle?" he called, turning back to Tad.
The lad did so.
"Smells fine, doesn't it?"
"I think so. What is it, mutton?"
"Boiled mutton. I kin smell the wool. Bah."
"Do you cook them with the wool on?" asked Chunky, edging nearer the kettle.
"See here, young man. This here is a bad country to ask fool questions in. Use your eyes and ears. Give your tongue a rest. It'll stop on you some day."