220 



FIELD SHOOTING. 



for our suppers and breakfasts. I then remembered 



the crane, and going to the fence I picked the 



breast, and cut it off in slices or steaks. These 



we fried in butter. There was a prairie road or 



track running by the hut. It was commonly but 



little used, but on thi3 occasion, while the steaks 



were being cooked, a man and a woman came by. 



in a buggy. As she caught the rich flavor from 



the hot pan, the woman said, "Those men must 



have something very good to eat." She was right. 



When we came to our crane-steaks, we both 



thought we had never eaten anything so good in 



our lives. It is true that the frosty air of the 



prairie late in the fall sharpens the appetite, and 



true that we were hungry, and hunters at that; 



but it is also true that the steaks were delicious 



eating. The meat was rich and juicy, and it had 



been frozen and thawed a sufficient number of 



times to make it very tender. Since then, if a 



crane was within shot, I have never let him get 



away, if I could help it. The flesh of the white 



crane is quite as good as that of the sand-hill 



kind. 



Cranes need to be hung for a long time be- 

 fore being cooked, and almost all game is the 

 better for being hung, if the weather is cool or 



