“Cook anything you see, ’cause my big insides are eating up the little ones.”
He did not use the word “insides,” but its vulgar equivalent.
“Scare up a biscuit?” asked Middleton. “How does one scare a biscuit?”
“Build a fire in the stove,” said Dirty Shirt. “All you have to do is touch a match to the kindling, as the fire is all set. Then we’ll show you the next step.”
I went inside the tent, knelt beside the stove and scratched a match.
The sticks of wood over the kindling caught my eye. I removed one as I touched the match. One must betray ignorance to acquire knowledge, so I carried one out to them.
“Pardon me,” said I, “but is this some new preparation to combat the scarcity of fuel?”
Dirty Shirt glanced at the stick, then at the smoke coming out of the small stovepipe, and then he and Ike grasped their hats in their hands and dashed away. It really was ludicrous.
“Come on, you —— fools!” cried Ike without stopping to explain.
“What an amazing thing to do!” exclaimed Middleton. “Why in the world are they——”