A Real Feast

Now it so happened, fortunately for us, that the smoke had come from the camp of white men, and of them Bruce begged, or bought, half of a fat deer, broiling enough steaks on the coals to satisfy the hunger of the younger members of the party, while he roasted a goodly portion, hunter-fashion, on a hickory skewer stuck up in the earth in front of the fire.

The girls made coffee and corn bread, and we feasted that night.

Captain Haskell and I went on board the boat to sleep, and I was not sorry we did so, for before morning another storm came up, and when we looked out from beneath the wagon covers, after sunrise, snow covered the ground to the depth of two inches.

The sun was shining brightly; the wind had died away until there was not sufficient air stirring to lift a feather, and nothing prevented us from continuing the journey without delay, which we did, the girls broiling venison steaks in our fireplace at the stern of the boat while we sailed along.

Master Bruce told us we might take no little credit to ourselves, for we most likely were the first white people to venture on the Indian shore and remain there all night, since Pittsburgh had become a town.