Two Women Now Came Forward With Clay Pots On
Their Heads And Fire-Sticks In Their Hands, And They Superintended
The Cooking.
Without cutting off either heads or legs, or pulling out
the birds' feathers, the chickens were placed in the
Pots with water.
Lying down near the fire, I, manlike, impatiently waited for supper.
Perhaps a minute had dragged its weary length along when I picked up
a stick from the ground and poked one of the fowls out of the water,
which was not yet warm. Holding the bird in one hand, and pulling
feathers out of my mouth with the other, I ate as my forefathers did
ages ago. Years before this I had learned that a hungry man can eat
what an epicure despises. After this feast I lay down on the ground
behind one of the tepees, and, with my head resting on my most valued
possessions, went to sleep.
Having promised to give the priest and his wife another present, I
was awakened very early next morning. They had come for their gifts.
Rising from my hard bed, I stretched myself and awoke my servant,
under whose head were the looking-glasses. I presented one of these
to the woman, who looked in it with satisfaction and evident
pleasure. Whether she was pleased with her reflection or with the
glass I cannot tell, but I feel sure it must have been the latter! A
necklace to the daughter and a further gift to the old man gained
their friendship, and food was brought to us.
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