The Permian of Texas 223 



wanted his squaw to cook me one for supper. This 

 she proceeded to do, removing the breast and put- 

 ting it on a wooden spit which she stuck in the 

 ground before a large bed of coals and constantly 

 turned until the meat was done. This, with a cup 

 of coffee which she made me and the bread crumbs 

 from my lunch, gave me quite a meal. I was too 

 hungry to be fastidious. 



The Indians were roasting camus, the bulb of the 

 wild hyacinth, which grew plentifully in the creek 

 bottom. They had dug a pit five feet deep and three 

 in diameter and kindled a fire at the bottom, using at 

 least a cord of wood to heat thoroughly the sur- 

 rounding ground. The ashes were then scraped 

 out, and the walls plastered with a mortar of mud, 

 over which green grass was thickly strewn to pre- 

 vent the bulbs from burning. The bulbs were then 

 put in and covered with grass and mud, and a fire 

 built on top of them. The next morning they were 

 done, and were as much relished by these Indian 

 children as popcorn or peanuts by the whites. I 

 tasted some. They had a sweetish taste, a little like 

 sweet potatoes, but they were so full of sand that 

 my teeth were not strong enough to grind them up. 



I put off going to bed until late, as I dreaded 

 sleeping in the high grass where I had left my 

 saddle. But at last the children, who had been 

 amusing me, went off to bed, and I decided to go 



