112 IN THE OLD WEST 



— would have made the heart of a dyspeptic leap 

 for joy or burst with envy. Far into the " still 

 watches of the tranquil night," the fat-clad " de- 

 pouille " saw its fleshy mass grow small by de- 

 grees and beautifully less before the trenchant 

 blades of the hungry mountaineers ; appetizing 

 yards of well-browned " boudin " slipped glibly 

 down their throats ; rib after rib of tender hump 

 was picked and flung to the wolves ; and when 

 human nature, with helpless gratitude, and con- 

 fident that nothing of superexcellent comestibility 

 remained, was lazily wiping the greasy knife that 

 had done such good service, a skillful hunter was 

 seen to chuckle to himself as he raked the deep 

 ashes of the fire, and drew therefrom a pair of 

 tongues so admirably baked, so soft, so sweet, and 

 of such exquisite flavor, that a veil is considerately 

 drawn over the effects their discussion produced 

 in the mind of our greenhorn La Bonte, and the 

 raptures they excited in the bosom of that, as yet, 

 most ignorant mountaineer. Still, as he ate he 

 wondered, and wondering admired, that nature, 

 in giving him such profound gastronomic powers, 

 and such transcendent capabilities of digestion, 

 had yet bountifully provided an edible so peculiarly 

 adapted to his ostrich-like appetite, that after 

 consuming nearly his own weight in rich and fat 

 bufl'alo-meat, he felt as easy and as little incom- 

 moded as if he had lightly supped on strawberries 

 and cream. 



