“I meant killing and eating him.”
“No, you didn’t. Dal, I’m better this morning; the coming of that poor dog like a fellow-creature in distress seems to have cheered me up.”
“That’s right. Then, as a reward, I will wait a few days and go round cadging.”
“No—buying.”
“The fellows won’t sell. They will only let us have some as a loan.”
“Very well, then; get what you can as a loan, Dal.”
“All right; but I know what it will be wherever I go: ‘We can let you have some tobacco, old man; we’ve scarcely anything else.’”
“Never mind; try.”
Dallas threw a few small pieces of wood on the fire to make a blaze and light up the rough place, and then the breakfast was partaken of. Not a very substantial meal: milkless tea, with very stodgy hot cake, made with musty meal; but to the great delight of Dallas, his companion in misfortune partook thereof with some show of appetite, and then sat looking on without a word while Dallas took one of their gold-washing pans, poured in some meal, took a piece of split firewood, and stirred with one hand while he poured hot water in from the billy with the other.
Neither spoke, but their thoughts were in common, and as soon as the hot mash had cooled a little, the cook turned to the dog.