WE-NEN-GWAY. 295 



other thing on earth. During the winter it had been 

 evident that I was not a favorite with the native Ameri- 

 can. He-who-takes-so-much-at-a-mouthful evidently 

 preferred Gibbs to me, and some others whom I had 

 bounced out of camp because of persistent begging had 

 no great love for me, and so there was no amount of love 

 lost between us. I stood, as the commissary of our 

 party, the custodian of its supplies, which would have 

 melted away in a week if all-comers had been regaled as 

 our friend Gibbs would have entertained them. They 

 would have stayed by him as long as the provisions 

 lasted; they liked Gibbs. 



In this party in the wigwam I recognized Dirty-face 

 and others who had been at our camp and had eaten of 

 our pork, their great dainty, which they called koo- 

 koosh; but there was no cordial handshake only a nod 

 and a grunt, which is their limit of welcome. A squaw 

 arose, thrust a stick into the kettle and brought up meat; 

 she was satisfied that it was sufficiently cooked, and took 

 the kettle from the fire and went outside with it. I had 

 curiosity enough to get up and follow. She put the ket- 

 tle in the snow, and scraped up snow about it to cool it. 

 I asked her what meat she was about to serve to her 

 guests, at the same time giving her what pork I had. 

 We were friends. Pork was good, and she had only 

 muskrat to offer. Muskrat was not fat like pork and 

 bear meat, but it was warm, and she hoped I would like it. 



Away back in the fourth article of this series I told of 

 Bill Fairchild's experience with the muskrat as food, as 

 he related it at a seance in Port Tyler's cabin, in Green- 

 bush. If you remember, Bill could follow the French- 

 man's advice could "skin da mus'rat, bile him a leetle, 

 den fry a-heem an' eat him, an' oh !" Right here I wish 

 to record my first experience with the musquash as an 



