“I do not wish you to consent to these views merely to suit my wishes. I want you to be convinced. I dare say there are advantages about tin; it may be knocked about, is always ready at hand, is light, and stores in small compass; for rough travel, doubtless, it is admirable, and, were we to make long portages, would be better than china. After all, the taste of tin must be more apparent than real; the metal cannot come off, or it would dissolve; and how, then, can it give a taste? The pots are large, but a man wants a good, long drink, whether of tea or brandy, when exhausted with hard work or exposure. After all, you will find many advantages in tin cups, and, really, the plates are scarcely objectionable; before deciding, you must look at these matters from both points of view. However, as we cannot obtain china this trip, and as we are discussing improvements, there is one thing I insist upon hereafter—we must have table-cloths and napkins.”
“What!” I exclaimed, absolutely overcome at this suggestion.
“Table-cloths and napkins. You have probably heard of such things before; they are customary at a gentleman’s table, and if a person does sleep in a tent, he need not forget he is a gentleman. Look at this table, made out of two rough boards that were never even planed, transported in the bottom of our boat, and walked over daily with dirty shoes and occasionally with bare feet, sullied with the marks of promiscuous bundles, half covered with grease, and stained with tea, bilge-water, and fish-blood gracefully intermingled.”
“That is too bad; they are two good, clean boards that Frank washes regularly, and which are in themselves an unusual luxury; for in wood’s-life we usually dine off a log or a flat rock.”
“They may be washed occasionally; but as dead fish are first gutted on them, and as tea and grease are afterwards spilled on them till they are revolting with filth, I do not see, for my part, how you can eat your dinner off them.”
“I don’t eat off them; I eat off my plate.”
“That you may call a joke; but hereafter I shall have table-cloths and napkins. You carry towels, why not napkins?”
“Because you cannot stow a large number, and if you have only a few, how are they to be kept clean? The guides have enough to do without trying to wash table-cloths with cold water and no starch.”
“If that is so, I should take an extra man to wash them.”
The next day we met with a loss. We had noticed that the Indians, when they travelled, were invariably accompanied by their dogs; these were rarely accommodated on board the canoes, and followed along the shore, swimming the inlets or crossing at the head, making often much longer journeys than their masters, who passed from headland to headland, but coming up with the camp at night to partake of the frugal meal. Sometimes, however, they strayed, and either lived on chance gleanings from travellers or perished in the woods. There were two ownerless dogs near our camp, and although precautions had been taken by our men, they succeeded in carrying off our only ham, leaving us nothing to show for it but the empty bag.