Our heroes lay on the grass talking and laughing and looking lazily on, but enjoying the sight nevertheless. It was evidently a curry on a grand scale that Seth was going to give them, and he soon had about a dozen sliced onions simmering in fat; when they were enough done the doe’s flesh was added, and then Seth set about compounding his curry out of freshly-grated turmeric and many curious herbs. His pestle and mortar were rude but efficient. This was the longest part of the operation, and he had to pause often to take off the lid and stir up the flesh, and every time he did this the two dogs, who had sworn eternal friendship when first they met, must needs walk round to the lee side of the old trapper, and hold their heads high in the air to sniff the fragrant steam.
And now Seth added the goat’s milk, then the curry, and lastly the flour; after this he left the mess to simmer while he busied himself in preparations for dishing up. Our heroes were intensely hungry, but they were also intensely happy, and when hunger and happiness both go together, it is a sure sign that a man is in health.
“Well, I do declare,” said Ralph, passing his dish for the third if not the fourth time, “I don’t think I ever enjoyed a breakfast more in my life.”
“Nor I either; and fancy getting freshly-baked bread,” said Allan.
“And the drink,” said McBain, lifting a foaming mug to his lips, “what a glad surprise!”
Simple heather ale it was, reader, made from the heath-tops and sweetened with wild honey.
“And you tell us,” said McBain, “that you’ve been alone in this forest for twelve long years?”
“Not alone,” said Seth, pointing with his foot to the mastiff. “I had he, and his father and mother before him.”
“And you’re your own baker and brewer?”
“Blame me,” replied Seth, “if I ain’t my own everything, and bar a couple of journeys a year of a hundred odd miles to sell my furs, and buy powder and an old newspaper, I never sees a soul save the Yack Injuns. A little civilisation goes a long way with Seth.”