TAY-BUN-ANE-JE-GAY. 271 



Henry and me at the first serving, and long before we 

 had finished I piled another big chunk on the plate of our 

 guest. 



"Henry/' said I, "your friend's doctor has recom- 

 mended him to take something for his appetite, and he's 

 struck the place to get the prescription put up. Just see 

 what he takes at a mouthful, and how he swallows it 

 without sticking a tooth in it! I'll limit him to the pork 

 and bread, for I'll be dingswizzled if I'll boil and bake 

 any more beans!" 



Henry thought a minute he was a meditative man 

 and therefore a born angler and said: "He is filling his 

 beaver house for the winter, but he can swallow chunks 

 of pork that would choke a deerhound. He must have a 

 new name. These Injuns don't get a name early in life 

 as we do, and when they get one it never sticks through 

 as ours do, and we must name him anew. See that last 

 chunk go down ! Give him what there is left of the pork 

 and put the rest away, and let's see him get away with 

 what you had provided for six men to-night, in addition 

 to what he has eaten." 



I will publicly confess to being a sinner if that Ojib- 

 way, or "Chippewa," as his name has been corrupted, did 

 not clean up every bit of the pork. There was no such 

 discrimination between the component parts as was made 

 by Jack Spratt and his wife. He removed the plate from 

 his lap and said: "Koo-koosh, nish-ish-shin," or "Pork 

 very good." 



While our guest sat by the fire in full enjoyment of 

 physical comfort Henry and I concocted the new name 

 for him, and this is the way we christened him. I said, 

 leaving out as much of his tongue as possible: "You no 

 Beaver House no more, you Tay-bun-ane-je-gay" (He- 

 who-takes-so-much-at-a-mouthful). This name, which 



