“I give in. Credit or disgrace, it’s all one. I’ll not make a pig of myself for any red-skin in the land.”
Jacques smiled.
“See,” continued Charley, “there’s a fellow opposite who has devoured as much as would have served me for three days. I don’t know whether it’s imagination or not, but I do verily believe that he’s blacker in the face than when we sat down!”
“Very likely,” replied Jacques, wiping his lips, “Now I’ve done.”
“Done! you have left at least a third of your supply.”
“True, and I may as well tell you for your comfort that there is one way of escape open to you. It is a custom among these fellows, that when any one cannot gulp his share o’ the prog, he may get help from any of his friends that can cram it down their throats; and as there are always such fellows among these Injins, they seldom have any difficulty.”
“A most convenient practice,” replied Charley, “I’ll adopt it at once.”
Charley turned to his next neighbour with the intent to beg of him to eat his remnant of the feast.
“Bless my heart, Jacques, I’ve no chance with the fellow on my left hand; he’s stuffed quite full already, and is not quite done with his own share.”
“Never fear,” replied his friend, looking at the individual in question, who was languidly lifting a marrowbone to his lips; “he’ll do it easy. I knows the gauge o’ them chaps, and for all his sleepy looks just now he’s game for a lot more.”