Several times Charley and Redfeather exchanged glances as they paused in their labours.
“I say, Jacques,” said Charley, pulling up once more, “how do you get on? Pretty well stuffed by this time, I should imagine?”
“Oh no! I’ve a good deal o’ room yet.”
“I give in. Credit or disgrace, it’s all one. I’ll not make a pig of myself for any redskin 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 he 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 who 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.”