IN THE OLD WEST 163 



The feast that night was long protracted; and 

 so savory was the stew, and so agreeable to the 

 palates of the hungry hunters, that at the moment 

 the last morsel was drawn from the pot, when all 

 were regretting that a few more dogs had not been 

 slaughtered, a wolfish-looking cur, who incautiously 

 poked his long nose and head under the lodge skin, 

 was pounced upon by the nearest hunter, who in 

 a moment drew his knife across the animal's throat, 

 and threw it to a squaw to skin and prepare for 

 the pot. The wolf had long since been vigorously 

 discussed, and voted by all hands to be " good as 

 dog." 



" Meat's meat," is a common saying in the moun- 

 tains, and from the buffalo down to the rattle^ 

 snake, including every quadruped that runs, every 

 fowl that flies, and every reptile that creeps, noth- 

 ing comes amiss to the mountaineer. Throwing 

 aside all the qualms and conscientious scruples of 

 a fastidious stomach, it must be confessed that 

 dog-meat takes a high rank in the wonderful vari- 

 ety of cuisine afforded to the gourmand and the 

 gourmet by the prolific mountains. Now, when 

 the bill of fare offers such tempting viands as buf- 

 falo-beef, venison, mountain mutton, turkey, 

 grouse, wild-fowl, hares, rabbits, beaver and their 

 tails, &c., &c., the station assigned to dog as No. 

 2 in the list can be well appreciated — No. 1, in 

 delicacy of flavor, richness of meat, and other 



