After dark, as I was frying the fish, a panful of the largest trout
was accidently capsized in the fire. With rueful countenances we
contemplated the irreparable loss our commissariat had sustained by
this mishap; but remembering there was virtue in ashes, we poked the
half-consumed fish from the bed of coals and ate them, and they were
good.
We lodged that night on a brush-heap and slept soundly. The green,
yielding beech-twigs, covered with a buffalo robe, were equal to a
hair mattress. The heat and smoke from a large fire kindled in the
afternoon had banished every "no-see-em" from the locality, and in the
morning the sun was above the mountain before we awoke.
I immediately started again for the inlet, and went far up the stream
toward its source. A fair string of trout for breakfast was my reward.
The cattle with the bell were at the head of the valley, where they
had passed the night. Most of them were two-year-old steers. They came
up to me and begged for salt, and scared the fish by their
importunities.
We finished our bread that morning, and ate every fish we could catch,
and about ten o'clock prepared to leave the lake.
Pages:
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248