198 A SPORTSMAN'S EDEN. 



' All right, sir ; but won't you take a few little 

 luxuries for the lady ?' replies the clerk. 



' No ; I want her to really rough it.' 



Madame laughs, and the man thinks we are 

 mad. 



' Put in salt pork instead of bacon for us/ says 

 Jocko ; ' bacon is no use in camp.' 



' Why not, Jocko ?' I ask. 



' It isn't fat enough ; you want fat for cold 

 weather and hard work.' 



Of course I make no demur. The pork is the 

 cheapest, and I am quite ready to consult my 

 men's tastes. 



Next morning, at ten, an extremely smart 

 cart on wheels stands before the store, loaded 

 with rugs and buffalo robes, and drawn by two 

 strong horses. 



The lady has come up to the scratch gallantly, 

 arrayed in scarlet tam-o'-shanter, short skirts, 

 stout boots, and overshoes to keep out the snow. 

 Instead of the gigantic trunks which generally 

 accompany her, one little hand-bag holds all her 

 clothes and toilette necessaries for a week. All 

 mine are knotted up in a handkerchief. A case 

 like a large hat-box contains a pail, and in that 

 pail, ingeniously fitted, are pets and kettles, 

 frying-pans, knives, billies, and all the kitchen 

 utensils necessary for comfort round a camp-fire. 



