THE TREELESS PLAINS 221 



The reader may recollect the original postulate of 

 my plan. Other travellers have gone, relying on the 

 abundant Caribou, yet saw none, so starved. I relied 

 on no Caribou, I took plenty of groceries, and because 

 I was independent, the Caribou walked into camp 

 nearly every day, and we lived largely on their meat, 

 saving our groceries for an emergency, which came 

 in an unexpected form. One morning when we 

 were grown accustomed to this condition I said to 

 Billy: 



"How is the meat?" 



"Nearly gone. We'll need another Caribou about 

 Thursday." 



"You better get one now to be ready Thursday. I 

 do not like it so steaming fresh. See, there's a nice little 

 buck on that hillside." 



"No, not him; why he is nearly half a mile off. I'd 

 have to pack him in. Let's wait till one comes in 

 camp." 



Which we did, and usually got our meat delivered 

 near the door. 



Caribou meat fresh, and well prepared, has no 

 superior, and the ideal way of cooking it is of course by 

 roasting. 



Fried meat is dried meat, 

 Boiled meat is spoiled meat, 

 Roast meat is best meat. 



How was it to be roasted at an open fire without 

 continued vigilance? By a very simple contrivance 

 that I invented at the time and now offer for the use of 

 all campers. 



