So we sat down and
ate some more of the partridge raw.
Mr. Wallace says, "I just fancy that I never ate something so good
in my life."
We could have camped right there where I killed the partridge, as
we would have something for our supper; but what I wanted to find
out too was--Is the flour there I wonder. If we did not get there
it would be in my mind all the time, "I wonder if the flour is
there." It got dark and we still travelled. Wallace would often
ask me, "How far is it from here to the flour?" "How far is it to
the flour?"
At last I knew we were coming to it. We had not a mark, or never
put it at some particular place; but we have just thrown it away.
Anyway we thought we would never come past there again. It was
late in the night when we came to the flour. I was not very sure
of it myself. I put down my little load.
Wallace said, "Is this the place?"
I said, "Yes."
So I went to where I thought we had left the flour. I dug down
into the snow and just came on it. It was, of course, in one solid
lump and black with mould. We got our knife and broke it off in
bits and ate quite a bit. We were just about played out when we
came to the flour.
Pages:
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340