Part 6 (2/2)
”I wonder if they are so very bad eating?” mused the tall scout, wistfully; for prejudice is a hard thing to conquer; and habit backed by imagination is responsible for the choice of many a man's food. What appeals tremendously to one may cause another to shrink.
Elmer laughed.
”I've heard many men say they think musquash as good as almost anything to be had in the woods or swamps up north. The Indians always consider them a dainty,” he told his chum.
”Oh! yes, but they are also mighty fond of baked dog,” remonstrated Lil Artha.
”So would you be, if you'd been brought up that way. Some people can't bear the thought of eating frogs' legs, and yet those same folks will sit down and calmly swallow a dozen oysters or clams on the half sh.e.l.l.
Now, I've always said that the first man who ever gulped down a live oyster had more nerve even than Napoleon. Then, if you only travel around, from China to France, you'll find that things we scorn are called dainties there. Take snails, which bring a high price in Paris markets--have you ever eaten one in all your life?”
”Hold on there, Elmer,” exclaimed Lil Artha; ”bring on your musquash.
I'm ready to give him a fair trial, and if he tastes good, after this you won't hear me draw the line even at baked dog--or crow. Yes, I've heard of people who say they've made a meal off crow, and liked it. Why, down our way the black rascals live on corn, and I don't see why they shouldn't be eatable, especially when a fellow has nothing else along.”
”Then I tell you what our programme should be,” the scout master continued, as though this ready admission on the part of the other gun-bearer had settled the question with him; ”we'll make up our minds about stopping close by here, and on the border of the marsh. While George and Toby are fixing camp, and beginning to gather wood, the two of us can start out and enter the marsh, keeping within calling distance of each other. If there's anything doing we'll bag some game for our supper to-night. How does that strike you?”
”Tip-top, Elmer, and because the sun is getting pretty low over there in the west we'd better be finding that camp-site in a hurry.”
”I think I see as good a place as any right now,” the scout master declared, as he pointed straight ahead. ”You can glimpse what I mean by looking just past that birch that is bent nearly double with the snow. A dead tree lies on the ground, and I should think it would give us all the wood we'll need to-night. That's the main thing to make sure of.”
”And there's a heavy growth in sight, Elmer, that would serve as a windbreak in case it got to blowing great guns before morning, which I don't think will happen though. Shall I tell the other fellows we're at the end of our day's tramp?”
”Yes, because they're both about as tired as can be, and will be glad to hear the news,” Elmer replied.
So Lil Artha fell back in order to get in communication with Toby and George, who were plodding along with many a sigh and grunt; for their packs were heavy, and the going rough, with all that deep snow to struggle through.
”Hi! hurry along there, fellows!” he called out; ”we're meaning to camp right ahead here. Plenty of wood for a fire, and a windbreak in the bargain.”
”Tell us something about the visible grub supply, won't you, Lil Artha?”
asked Toby, beseechingly. ”Is there a good grocery around the corner, and does the butcher call for orders every morning, or just three times a week?”
”Oh! you have to go after your fresh meat,” laughed the tall scout, ”and that's what me'nd Elmer propose doing, leaving you two to fix the camp.”
”All right,” replied the weary Toby, ”just as you say. Anything to oblige; and here's hoping you run up against the best of success. A broiled partridge, or three slices of juicy venison in the fryingpan would about suit my taste.”
”They don't grow juicy venison up here, you ought to know, Toby; every kind I ever heard of was as dry as tinder, and had to be cooked with slices of bacon to make it taste just right. But considering that we've made way with the last sc.r.a.p of cured pork I guess we'll take it any old style.”
Lil Artha did not think it wise to spring the muskrat idea too suddenly on those unsuspecting fellows. He had a vague idea that should Elmer and himself meet with success, and knock over several of the marsh dwellers with the unenviable name, they might skin them, and let their chums imagine that they were eating squirrel or rabbit or something like that.
Afterwards, when they had set the stamp of approval upon the dish, the truth could come out. Prejudice by then would have been overcome by the knowledge that ”musquash,” the Indian dish, was all right.
When the little struggling party reached the spot Elmer had selected, and every one had a chance to survey the situation, a unanimous approval of his choice was the result.
”You couldn't have done better if you'd tried,” said George.
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