and cooking.

"Put on the pot, Wildcat," said Peegwish on entering, as he threw down
the sack of barley.

The woman obeyed with alacrity. The fire burned on the earthen floor in
primitive style. Erecting three sticks over it in the tripod form, she
hung a pot therefrom, filled it with water, and awaited further orders.
Knowing her brother's cast of mind well, she refrained from questioning,
though she perceived from the peculiar cunning of his looks that
something unusual occupied his mind. Peegwish saw that Wildcat's
curiosity was aroused, and resolved to keep it in that condition. He
had learned the fact that beer was made from barley, and had resolved,
thenceforth, to brew his own beer; but no hint of this did he permit to
escape him. He even went to the other extreme, and became unusually
communicative on subjects remote from beer. He told how that the people
up the river were being frightened by the rise in the water; how he had
met Lambert and Winklemann going to hunt wolves; how these Nimrods had
been obliged to change their minds and turn back for the purpose of
looking after their property; and, in short, he wandered as far from the
subject of beer and brewing as possible.

His reference to the rise of the river, however, turned Wildcat's
thoughts to the fact that the ice in their immediate neighbourhood had
been forced up in a manner that caused her some anxiety. She mentioned
her fears to Peegwish, but that worthy was too deeply immersed in his
experiments just then to care much for anything else. To her remarks he
merely replied by a solemn shake of the head and an owlish gaze into the
big pot.

Soon the water in the pot began to boil. Peegwish put in a large
proportion of barley, lighted his pipe, and sat down to await the result
with the patience of a Stoic. Wildcat sat beside him with equal
patience. An hour passed, Peegwish dipped a wooden spoon into the pot
and tasted. The result was not satisfactory--it burnt his lips. He let
the spoonful cool, and tried again. The liquid was marvellously like
barley-broth, with which delicacy he was well acquainted. Another hour
passed; again he dipped the spoon, and again met with disappointment,
for his brew was not yet beer. The sun went down, the moon arose, the
stars came out, and still Peegwish and Wildcat sat watching and dozing
over the big pot.

At last the former bade the latter watch alone while he slept. He lay
back where he sat and