290 THE COOKERY OF VENISON 



all, there is no such condiment as hunger. We ven- 

 ture to aver that the most successful banquets of 

 venison have come off somewhere in the Wild West 

 of America, between the Alleghanies and the Sierras. 

 The wayfarer has gone dinnerless for a day or two, 

 or the wandering mountain-man may have feared to 

 fire a shot, knowing that he may be ambushed by 

 hostile Indians. He has kept body and soul together, 

 as best he might, on snakes and lizards and * such 

 small deer.' In the end starvation has got the better 

 of prudence. With gloating eyes and trembling 

 pulses he has stalked the tempting buck and dropped 

 him. As he has risked so much he will hazard some- 

 thing more. He gathers fuel and kindles a fire, 

 though aware that the smoke may betray him. But 

 as he butchers the slaughtered deer, he is thinking 

 only of dinner. He slashes out the liver and lights. 

 They will warm more quickly over the smoky blaze, 

 while the fillets he has sliced from the haunch are 

 grilling. If he is an epicure he sprinkles the meat 

 with powder from his horn, and he washes down the 

 repast with long draughts from the rippling stream. 

 It is not far removed from the rude Abyssinian feast, 

 where the beef-steaks were cut from the living ox ; but 

 did ever man dine more heartily or deliciously ? If 

 he had his personal medical attendant, he would be 



