remarked Frank. "Up in Maine the trappers told me they were fine in winter weather."
Will said not a word, but his lip curled, as though nothing could tempt him to even take a taste of such a queer dish.
It was high noon when they arrived at the shack of the old trapper, and all of the boys felt sharp pressed with hunger.
"I hope he's got something else besides muskrat—ugh!" said Jerry to Will.
"I saw part of a deer hanging up before we left here," replied the other.
Jerry licked his lips in anticipation.
"Venison, real venison, fresh in the woods! Tell me about that, will you? I'm in on that deal every time. I hope he cooks enough of it."
There was little danger of the trapper allowing any of his guests to go hungry.
"Boys, I want you all to help me git a fine dinner. Frank, I knows you are used to makin' up a good cookin' fire, you 'tend to that part. Jerry, see that ere haunch o' venison hangin' from the limb o' that tree jest git her down an' cut off some slices, all this here big fry-pan'll hold, an' put some pieces o' salt pork in along with it, 'cause ye see venison is mighty dry. Bill, p'raps ye kin look arter the coffee part o' the bizness."
