“Well, I’ll be–blessed!” he said. “This is something like. If you don’t look out, you’ll make quite a camp-mate, Miss Jenny. But now, trot along. This is hardly arctic weather, and our abattoir don’t include a cold-storage plant. The sooner these lambs are dressed, the better.”
CHAPTER X
PROBLEMS IN WOODCRAFT
It was no pleasant sight that met Miss Leslie’s gaze upon her return. The neatest of butchering can hardly be termed aesthetic; and Blake and Winthrope lacked both skill and tools. Between the penknife and an improvised blade of bamboo, they had flayed the two cubs and haggled off the flesh. The ragged strips, spitted on bamboo rods, were already searing in the fierce sun-rays.
Miss Leslie would have slipped into the hollow of the baobab with her armful of fagots and brush; but Blake waved a bloody knife above the body of the mother leopard, and beckoned the girl to come nearer.
“Hold on a minute, please,” he said. “What did you find out?”
Miss Leslie drew a few steps nearer, and forced herself to look at the revolting sight. She found it still more difficult to withstand the odor of the fresh blood. Winthrope was pale and nauseated. The sight of his distress caused the girl to forget her own loathing. She drew a deep breath, and succeeded in countering Blake’s expectant look with a half-smile.
“How well you are getting along!” she exclaimed.
“Didn’t think you could stand it. But you’ve got grit all right, if you are a lady,” Blake said admiringly. “Say, you’ll make it yet! Now, how about the gully?”
“There is no place to climb up. It runs along like this, and then slopes down. But there is a cliff at the end, as high as these walls.”