I almost wondered at my uncle shooting two more pigeons, as we had already a couple, but I found out the reason when we reached home, as we called it, to find that everything was in its place; no one apparently having entered the hut, from which our black guide now took his spear, and without another word hurried away.
Chapter Twenty One.
Feeding in the Wilderness.
“I hope Master Ebony is not offended,” said my uncle, wiping his face. “Perhaps it is only his way. Now, Nat, get some sticks and make a good fire, while I lay the cloth and cook. That’s the evil of being alone, we have to prepare and cook for ourselves; but we’ll have a treat to-day.”
I soon had a fire burning, and then watched Uncle Dick as with sharp knife and clever fingers he quickly skinned the four pigeons, placing their skins where they would not dry, and then busying himself over the birds.
“Won’t you have some dinner first, uncle?” I said, for I was terribly hungry.
“First? No, my boy, not till we have cooked it. You don’t want to eat your birds raw, do you?”
“What! are you going to eat those—those—”