"How did he do that?" I inquired.
"He say put him on stick by fire to cook in de night. Then he go to sleep and stick burn off. Grouse fall in de fire and burn."
"That's too thin," I said. "Seymour cooked that grouse and ate it while you and I were asleep."
Seymour glared at me, but had not the courage to resent or deny the charge. An Indian does not let sleep interfere with his appetite; he eats whatever there is first, and then sleeps. I divided the last of the bacon and biscuits equally between us, and with a remnant of cold broiled salmon, we eked out a scant breakfast on which to begin a day's work. John was clawing some white greasy substance from a tin can with his fingers, and spreading it on his biscuits with the same tools. He passed the can to me, and said:
"Have butta?"
"No, thanks," I answered; "I seldom eat butter in camp."
"I like him all time," he replied; "I never git widout butta for brade at home." This by way of informing me that he knew what good living was, and practiced it at home. It rained heavily all day, and our tramp through the jungle was most dreary and disagreeable.
"The day was dark, and cold, and dreary;
It rained, and the wind was never weary."
EN FAMILLE