“How come the salt in your pocket?” asked Bill.
“I have never forgotten the time that you and I were lost in Mexico without any salt,” explained Breene. “No offense to you, but I always carry it now when we go out together.”
“I am glad that you did this time,” said Bill.
“Slide this stick through the bird,” said Breene. “Now we can hold it over the fire and rotate it so that the bird will cook on all sides and not burn.”
They sat in silence while the bird sizzled and cooked over the fire. Occasionally Breene would take a sharp stick and test the meat to see if it was sufficiently cooked. Finally it met his requirements and he removed it from over the fire.
“I hope that we do not run out of the grouse country until we reach the railroad,” said Bill as he ate the meat off half the breast.
“I don’t find this hard to take at all,” remarked Breene. “It gets dark quickly down in the valley, doesn’t it? A few minutes ago I could see the sun shining on that peak across the way, and now it is almost dark. I am going to dig a hole in these pine needles, get a drink from the river and turn in.”
“That walk tired me out, too,” said Bill. “I am going to do the same. I think that we had better keep the fire burning, for I don’t want any more bears using my camp as a thoroughfare like they did the last time I was up here in these woods.”
“Are there bears here?” asked Breene.
“Lieutenant Finch and I only saw about three,” replied Bill.