“I say,” said Ned, laughingly, “oughtn’t some of us to go again and try to find the bear, while the others light the fire and boil the kettle?”
“No,” said Chris. “We had enough bear last night.”
“Yes,” said Ned, “but that was live bear; I meant slices of him to frizzle in the pan. Griggs says bear’s ham is good.”
“So it is, squire, and if we had a haunch of the brute I’d set you an example to eat it.”
“What does it taste like?” said Chris.
“Well, it’s rather hard to say. A good fat bear’s ham looks rather like a bit of a pig salted and dried; but it doesn’t taste like it a bit.”
“Like what, then?” cried Chris.
“Something like a mutton ham that has been trying to make-believe that it had grown on a pig’s hind-quarters. ’Tain’t bad, but don’t you two get letting your mouths water, because you’ll get none to-night. It’s tea and cake and a bit o’ bacon. That’s our tackle this time, and very glad I shall be to get even that.”
In another hour they were quietly enjoying the simple meal, during which the doctor said—
“An early start in the morning, boys. You’ll be able to sleep to-night, Chris, without dreaming about porcupines and skunks, which were all consequences of indigestion and the later supper.”