tossed the ember aside and settled himself contentedly. He smoked in the manner of his people, taking but one inhalation at a time and expelling it slowly, meanwhile holding the pipe away as though it had no more interest for him. Often a full minute elapsed between puffs, and David wondered that the pipe did not go out. The smoker was elderly and David guessed that he was lazy as well.
The ancient crone who had prepared David’s breakfast for him now came waddling to the wigwam bearing a birchen tray whereon lay a piece of meat and some dried beans. The meat looked to be three or four ribs of some small animal, and David, knowing that the Indians were more partial than averse to dogs as food, shuddered and resolved to touch none of the meat until he had learned its kind. The old woman stopped where he sat and lowered the tray for his inspection, muttering a word or two of gibberish in a husky, whining voice. David looked, inwardly revolted, and nodded. There was, he knew, no use in asking her what sort of flesh it was, since she knew no word of English and his own knowledge of Nipmuck was not yet equal to comprehend-
