"All of them you want," answered Tad.
"You are just in time. We were sitting down to breakfast when you called."
"Hello, Patsey," called Cale as the man strode into camp and, with a quick, keen glance at the party, unslung his rifle and stood it against a tree.
"Hello, Cale. What's wrong?"
"Turned my ankle, that's all," growled the guide. He then introduced the newcomer as Patsey O'Rell, a timber cruiser for a big lumber company. Patsey said he was on his way in. He had been out taking a survey of some timber plots and had been out two weeks. He had been living, to a large extent, on what the woods could supply, carrying his cooking utensils dangling from his belt. Patsey was especially solicitous over the condition of the guide. He demanded to see the ankle, and getting down on his knees examined it carefully.
"Yes, there's something broken in there," he announced. "I reckon you'd better be a leetle bit careful of that ankle."
Tad suggested that they sit down to breakfast, which suggestion Patsey accepted gratefully. There was moose steak for breakfast. When a heaping dish of it was passed to the timber cruiser he sniffed it, then tasted it, after which he gazed up with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Something familiar about this meat, eh?" he grinned. "Pretty good piece of cow meat—"
"It isn't cow meat," exclaimed Stacy, unable to contain himself longer.
"No?"