In a short time the animals were stripped of their hides and quarters; and each man, taking his quarter, commenced roasting it over the fire.
“Fellers! what d’ye call this anyhow? Beef or mutton?” asked one, as they began to eat.
“Wolf-mutton, I reckin,” was the reply.
“It’s dog-gone good eatin’, I say; peels off as tender as squ’ll.”
“It’s some’ut like goat, ain’t it?”
“Mine tastes more like dog to me.”
“It ain’t bad at all; better than poor bull any day.”
“I’d like it a heap better if I war sure the thing hadn’t been up to yon varmint on the rocks.” And the man who said this pointed to the skeleton of the Digger.
The idea was horrible, and under other circumstances would have acted as a sufficient emetic.
“Wagh!” exclaimed a hunter; “ye’ve most taken away my stammuck. I was a-goin’ to try the coyoat afore ye spoke. I won’t now, for I seed them smellin’ about him afore we rid off.”