"You see," continued Lynx, "I stumbled upon it quite by accident as I was digging for Grubs, Beetles, and poor food of that sort--hardly enough to fill one's teeth. Oh, this Seventh Year is terrible! I was starving, Friend--really I was; the gaunt gnawing which never comes to you, and of which you know nothing, for you are always with the Men who have plenty, was in my stomach. I was thinking of the hunger-hardship, and of the great store of Fat-eating Carcajou must have cached, when I came upon this wooden-holder of stuff that is like yellow marrow."
"Butter," interrupted the Bird.
"I suppose so," whined Lynx.
"And you ate it?" queried Jack sharply, experiencing a sick feeling of desolation.
"There was only a little of it, only a little," iterated Pisew, deprecatingly; "hardly worth one's trouble in tearing the cover from the wooden-thing."
"The tub," advised Jack.
"Probably; I'm not familiar with the names of Man's things. But I just tasted it--that was all; just a little to oil my throat, and soothe the pain that was in my stomach. It is still there, really--under a big rotten log, where the water falls for the length of Panther's spring over high rocks in Summer."
"What's there,--the tub?" queried Jack, incredulously.
"Also the yellow marrow--the butter," affirmed Pisew.
"Oh!" exclaimed Whisky-Jack, drily. He knew the other was lying; if Pisew had found the tub he would have licked it clean as a washed platter. But the revenge he had in hand for this Prince of all Thieves was so complete that it was not worth while reviling him.