162 DAYS IN THE OPEN 



The Indians have their own explanation of a 

 thunder-storm. The thunder is the noise made by 

 a giant bird as it beats its wings against its body; 

 the lightning is caused by the bird winking its 

 eye. 



The story of those idyllic days would require a 

 volume for its telling, and the patience of the 

 reader is probably exhausted long ere this. There 

 came an evening when Joe placed a dish before us 

 and announced, " All potatoes." To be sure they 

 were all potatoes. Did he imagine that we would 

 take them for billiard balls? But there is a 

 deeper significance in his words. After a wild 

 struggle with our language, he manages to say, 

 " Potatoes all gone." This is the beginning of the 

 end. A hasty examination of the larder shows 

 us that we have barely enough provisions to last 

 until we can reach civilization. It is the Business 

 Man's appetite that has undone us. He is not 

 large in stature, but he has developed an appetite 

 that would paralyze a boarding-house keeper. The 

 worst of it is that his appetite has gotten away 

 from him, and goes roaming around among the 

 victuals seeking what it may devour. Sadly we 

 pack up and turn our faces toward the south. 

 Word is brought in that Mary, the little daughter 

 of our head guide, is dead. We press hurriedly 

 on, through the sunshine and the beating storm, 

 and within twenty-four hours from the time when 

 the tidings reached us, our canoes are before the 



