"I would have unloaded it," responded the other, "I would have unloaded the cussed things more than once, but I had nothing else to bring you, and I thought they'd look mighty fine standing up on the table with an apple in each mouth and their tails curled up, as I've seen them at the barbecues."
"So they would, so they would, Bill; but ye never could have kept 'em on the table. No amount of cookin' would have ever taken the speed out of them pigs. Ef ye had nailed 'em to the table they'd have taken the table and cabin with 'em. It's better as it is, Bill; so cheer up and we'll git at the cookin'."
Cooking is more than an art; it is a gift. Genius, and genius alone, can prepare a feast fit for the feaster. Woe be to the wretch who sees nothing in preparing food for the mouth of man save manual labor. Such a knave should be basted on his own spit. An artist in eating can alone appreciate an artist in cooking. When food is well prepared it delights the eye, it intoxicates the nose, it pleases the tongue, it stimulates the appetite, and prolongs the healthy craving which it finally satisfies, even as the song of the mother charms the child which it gradually composes for slumber.
The Old Trapper was a man of gifts and among his gifts was that of cooking. For sixty years he had been his own chef, with a continent for his larder, and to more than one gourmand of the great cities the tastiness and delicacy of his dishes had been a revelation—more than one epicure of the clubs had gone from his cabin not only with a full but a surprised stomach.
It is easy to imagine the happiness that this host of the woods experienced in preparing the feast for the morrow. He entered upon his labors, whose culmination was to be the great event of the year, with the alacrity of one who had mentally discussed and decided every point in anticipation. There was no cause for haste, and hence there was no confusion. He could not foretell the number of his guests, but this did in no way disconcert him. He had already decided that no matter how many might come there should be enough. In Wild Bill he had an able and willing assistant, and all through the afternoon and well into the evening the two men pushed on the preparation for the great dinner.
The large table, constructed of strong maple plank, was sanded and scoured until it shone almost snowy white. On it was placed a buck, roasted a la barbecue, the skin and head skillfully reconnected with the body and posed, muzzle lifted, antlers laid well back, head turned, ears alert, as he stood in the bush when the Trapper's bullet cut him down. At one end of the table a bear's cub was in the act of climbing a small tree, while at the other end a wild goose hung in mid-air, suspended by a fine wire from the ceiling, with neck extended, wings spread, legs streaming backward, as he looked when he drove downward toward open water to his last feeding.
The great cabin was a bower of beauty and fragrance. The pungent odor of gummy boughs and of bark, under which still lurked the amber-colored sweat of heated days and sweltering nights, pervaded it. On one side of the cabin hung a huge piece of white cotton cloth, on which the Trapper, with a vast outlay of patience, had stitched small cones of the pine into the conventional phrase,
"A MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YE ALL."
"It must have taken you a good many evenings to have done that job," said Wild Bill, pointing with the ladle he held in his hand toward the illuminated bit of sheeting.
"It did, Bill, it did," replied the Trapper, "and a solemn and a lively time I had of it, for I hadn't but six big needles in the cabin and I broke five on 'em the fust night, for the cones was gummy and hard, and it takes a good, stiff needle to go through one ef the man who is punchin' it through hasn't any thimble and the ball of his thumb is bleedin'. Lord-a-massy, Bill, Rover knew the trouble I was havin' as well as I did, for arter I had broken the second needle and talked about it a moment, the old dog got oneasy and began to edge away, and by the time I had broken the fourth needle and got through washin' my thumb he had backed clean across the cabin and sat jammed up in the corner out there flatter than a shingle."