I went for the ham but could not find it. A thorough search among our effects revealed it not.
"Kate, I can't find the ham," I called out. "It must have fallen out somewhere on the trail."
Kate ceased wrestling with the fire and came to help in the search for the missing delicacy.
"It couldn't have fallen out," she said incredulously. "That is impossible. The tent was fastened securely over everything. Nothing could have jolted out."
"Well, then, where is the ham?" I said.
That question was unanswerable, as Kate discovered after another thorough search. The ham was gone—that much was certain.
"I believe Peter Crow has levanted with the ham," I said decidedly.
"I don't believe Peter Crow could be so dishonest," said Kate rather shortly. "His wife has worked for us for years, and she's as honest as the sunlight."
"Honesty isn't catching," I remarked, but I said nothing more just then, for Kate's black eyes were snapping.
"Anyway, we can't have ham for breakfast," she said, twitching out the frying pan rather viciously. "We'll have to put up with canned chicken—if the cans haven't disappeared too."