“When the Natter-list came back ye should ha’ seen the joyful face he put on when he smelt the grub, for he was all but starved out, poor critter.
“‘What have we got here?’ cried he, rubbin’ his hands and sittin’ down.
“‘Steaks an’ marrow-bones,’ says Martin.
“‘Capital!’ says he. ‘I’m so hungry.’
“So he fell to work like a wolf. I niver seed a man pitch into anything like as that Natter-list did into that horseflesh.
“‘These are first-rate marrow-bones,’ says he, squintin’ with one eye down the shin bone o’ the hind-leg to see if it was quite empty.
“‘Yes, sir, they is,’ answered Martin, as grave as a judge.
“‘Take another, sir,’ says I.
“‘No, thankee,’ says he with a sigh, for he didn’t like to leave off.
“Well, we lived for a week on horseflesh, an’ first-rate livin’ it wos; then we fell in with buffalo, an’ niver ran short again till we got to the settlements, when he paid us our money an’ shook hands, sayin’ we’d had a nice trip an’ he wished us well. Jist as we wos partin’ I said, says I, ‘D’ye know what it wos we lived on for a week arter we wos well-nigh starved in the prairies?’