Part 44 (1/2)

”Don'tee want any. Plenty blead?” said the Chinaman. ”Want pot mak.u.m boil tea; want bacon--good fi' cook bacon.”

I was just unpacking the latter, which had been tucked in the kettle safe receptacle, and our new acquaintance's fingers were soon busy. He seized the kettle, went to the spring, rinsed it out, and brought it full to the fire. Then, before I could interfere, he had seized upon the bacon, taken out a long ugly knife, whetted it upon his boot, and began to cut off thin slices, which he laid upon a thin square of iron, whose purpose I had not divined when Gunson unpacked it, bore them to the fire, and stood there ready for a clear place where one side was all aglow with embers.

This done, the Chinaman placed one or two branches in more favourable positions for burning, and turned to Gunson again.

”Kettle nealy leady. Want tea?”

Gunson handed the tin to him, and the little yellow face lightened up as the cover was taken off.

”Melican tea? No. Good tea. Ah!”

There was a long, eager sniff taken, and then a look was given round.

”One, two, thlee,” said the little fellow, raising finger after finger as he counted. ”One, two, thlee,” and he gave the tea a shake in the canister.

”Not enough,” said Gunson; ”we like a good cup.”

”Hey? like good cup? Yes, plenty tea fo' good cup,” and he took off the lid of the tin, and went and squatted down by the kettle, set the tea aside, ready for the boiling of the water, and so brought the bacon over the glowing embers slowly and carefully, using the point of his knife in place of a fork. That tea proved to be excellent, and the bacon so delicious that we felt kindly disposed toward the Chinaman as we ate it; and the more so that as soon as he saw us well started, in place of hanging about to be asked to join, he whetted his knife again, trotted off, and began to collect pine-needles, and cut down boughs of fir and spruce to pack together under the biggest tree for our bed.

”Here, what are you doing?” said Gunson. ”Hey?” cried the little fellow, trotting up. ”Doing! Want mo' bacon--make blead. Blead gone high.”

”No, no. Sit down and have some tea.”

”By and by!” said the little fellow. ”Cut much bed. Velly black dleckly; no see.”

He went off, and we heard his knife hacking away again, and the rustling of the boughs, as he laid them neatly together in the big, pine natural tent that was to be our home that night.

”Well,” said Gunson, ”what do you think of real camping out?”

”Lovely,” said Esau. ”Oh! I say!”

”What's the matter?” I said. ”Gnat sort of thing bit me on the side of the neck. Why, if there ain't another.”

He gave his face a sharp smack, and I was engaged too, and directly after Gunson was smacking his hands and legs, for a cloud of mosquitoes had found us out, and were increasing in number every moment.

”This is intolerable,” cried Gunson. ”Old friends. Haven't been bitten for years. We shall have to s.h.i.+ft our quarters.”

Just then the Chinaman came up, and took in the situation at a glance.

”Skittum,” he said, sharply. ”I mudjums.”

Running to the fire, he took hold of the end of a branch, drew it out, gave it a wave to put out the flame, and then held it smoking low down by us on the side where the wind blew, with the result that a thick cloud of aromatic vapour was wafted by us, stinging our eyes a little, but making the vicious little insects turn their attention to the Indians, who started a burning branch as well, after which we could hear our enemies making their sharp, threatening hum all about us, but they rarely ventured to attack us through the smoke.

”I say,” cried Esau, ”I hope there ain't many of these things about.

My! how the bites itch.”

As he spoke he moved out from under the protecting smoke, but a sharp trumpeting hum sent him back directly with his head in the cloud.

”Wants a good sharp wind to blow 'em away,” he muttered, as he began to rub at the bites viciously, while Gunson turned to the Chinaman and nodded toward the remains of our food.