etite for steak, not
yet, but I did not want to see it carried off by wild beasts, or offered
at last on a falling market.

Besides, the thing was an annoyance as baggage. I don't know where we
carried it at first, but I began to come upon it in unexpected places.
If I picked up a yielding looking package, expecting to find a dry
undergarment, or some other nice surprise, it turned out to be that
steak. If I reached down into one of the pack baskets for a piece of
Eddie's chocolate, or some of his tobacco--for anything, in fact--I
would usually get hold of a curious feeling substance and bring up that
steak. I began to recognize its texture at last, and to avoid it.
Eventually I banished it from the baskets altogether. Then Eddie took to
hanging it on a limb near the camp, and if a shower came up suddenly he
couldn't rest--he must make a wild rush and take in that steak. I
refused at last to let him bring it into the tent, or to let him hang it
on a nearby limb. But this made trouble, for when he hung it farther
away he sometimes forgot it, and twice we had to paddle back a mile or
so to get that steak. Also, sometimes, it got wet, which was not good
for its flavor, he said; certainly not for its appearance.

In fact, age told on that steak. It no longer had the deep rich glow of
youth. It had a weather-beaten, discouraged look, and I wondered how
Eddie could contemplate it in that fond way. It seemed to me that if the
time wasn't ripe the steak was, and that something ought to be done
about a thing like that. My suggestions did not please Eddie.

I do not remember now just when we did at last cook that steak. I prefer
to forget it. Neither do I know what Eddie did with his piece. I buried
mine.

[Illustration: "When I awoke, a savory smell was coming in the tent."]

Eddie redeemed himself later--that is to say, he produced something I
could eat. He got up early for the purpose. When I awoke, a savory smell
was coming in the tent. Eddie was squatted by the fire, stirring
something in a long-handled frying pan. Neither he nor the guides were
communicative as to its nature, but it was good, and I hoped we would
have it often. Then they told me what it was. It was a preparation with
cream (condensed) of the despised canned salmon which I had denounced
earlier in the trip as an insult to live, speckled trout. You see how
one's point of view may alter. I said I was sorry now we hadn't brought
some dried herring. The oth