“Tripe de roche!” answered he.
“Tripe de roche?”
“Yes,” replied Norman, “look there!” and he pointed to one of the rocks directly ahead of them, at the same time moving forward to it. The others hastened up after. On reaching the rock, they saw what Norman had meant by the words tripe de roche (rock-tripe). It was a black, hard, crumply substance, that nearly covered the surface of the rock, and was evidently of a vegetable nature. Lucien knew what it was as well as Norman, and joy had expressed itself upon his pale cheeks at the sight. As for Basil and François they only stood waiting an explanation, and wondering what value a quantity of “rock moss,” as they deemed it, could be to persons in their condition.
Lucien soon informed them that it was not a “moss,” but a “lichen,” and of that celebrated species which will sustain human life. It was the Gyrophora. Norman confirmed Lucien's statement, and furthermore affirmed, that not only the Indians and Esquimaux, but also parties of voyageurs, had often subsisted upon it for days, when they would otherwise have starved. There are many species,—not less than five or six. All of them possess nutritive properties, but only one is a palatable food—the Gyrophora vellea of botanists. Unfortunately this was not the sort which our voyageurs had happened upon, as it grows only upon rocks shaded by woods, and is rarely met with in the open barrens. The one, however, which Norman had discovered was the “next best,” and they were all glad at finding even that.
The first thing to be thought of was to collect it, and all four set to peeling and scraping it from the rocks. The next thought was to make it ready for eating. Here a new difficulty stared them in the face. The tripe de roche had to be boiled,—it could not be eaten else,—and where was the fire? where was the wood to make one? Not a stick was to be seen. They had not met with a tree during all that day's journey!
They were now as badly off as ever. The tripe de roche would be of no more use to them than so much dry grass. What could they do with it?
In the midst of their suspense, one of them thought of the sledge.—Marengo's sledge. That would make a fire, but a very small one. It might do to cook a single meal. Even that was better than none. Marengo was not going to object to the arrangement. He looked quite willing to part with the sledge. But a few hours before, it came near being used to cook Marengo himself. He was not aware of that, perhaps, but no matter. All agreed that the sledge must be broken up, and converted into firewood.
They were about taking it to pieces, and had already “unhitched” Marengo from it, when Basil, who had walked to the other side of the rocky jumble, cried back to them to desist. He had espied some willows at no great distance. Out of these a fire could be made. The sledge, therefore, was let alone for the present. Basil and François immediately started for the willows, while Norman and Lucien remained upon the spot to prepare the “tripe” for the pot.
In a short time the former parties returned with two large bundles of willows, and the fire was kindled. The tripe de roche, with some snow—for there was no water near—was put into the pot, and the latter hung over the blaze.
After boiling for nearly an hour, the lichen became reduced to a soft gummy pulp, and Norman thickened the mess to his taste by putting in more snow, or more of the “tripe,” as it seemed to require it. The pot was then taken from the fire, and all four greedily ate of its contents. It was far from being palatable, and had a clammy “feel” in the mouth, something like sago; but none of the party was in any way either dainty or fastidious just at that time, and they soon consumed all that had been cooked. It did not satisfy the appetite, though it filled the stomach, and made their situation less painful to bear.