"Hey, put she is chuicy," he muttered, as he munched away without paying much heed to a bit or two of cinder adhering to the meat and sounding unpleasant as he crunched them between his strong, white teeth. "Peautiful!" he murmured again, as he got about half-way through. "She's thenking it would pe petter to begin cooking mair so as to be retty when they come pack." So he placed another piece on the fire, and then went on eating his second snack so slowly and deliberately, spending a certain amount of time the while in watching and turning the cooking piece that it was beautifully done by the time he had finished; and now came a terrible test of his powers of endurance. He looked at the frizzled slice, then away from it, then back at it; and it tempted him so sorely that he got up and walked away. "She's letting the fire oot," he cried, and ran back to stand looking down at it. "Nay, put she'd spoil a gude cooking fire if she put on anny coal. She'll cook ta rest." No sooner said than done. A fresh piece was put on the glowing cinders, and the newly cooked slice placed upon the bit of shale. "She'll chust spoil if she gets caud," muttered Watty. "The teer-fat goes hart and stickits to the roof of her mouth, an' it's a pity to spoil such bonnie meat." He gave his shock head a rub, and looked round again, wondering whether there were any bears likely to come and disturb him; but, as far as he could see, he was quite alone in the grand solitude, and he uttered a deep sigh. "She never said she was to cook anny meat," he said, "an' it such a pity to let it spoil. She'll chust eat this wee pit, an' they'll pe pack py the time the nex' pit is tone." Watty took another look, then seasoned and saw to the fresh piece frizzling; and the next minute the smell and sight of the slice upon the stone were too tempting to be resisted longer, and he began upon it and finished it as ravenously as if he had not had a morsel before. "Hey, put she is fine," he murmured with a sigh of satisfaction; "she never hat such a gran' treat pefore, an' it would pe wicket to let such gude meat spoil by ketting caud. The captain an' the tocktor poth said they wadna eat a pit, an' perhaps Meester Stevey's gone pack to ta ship or the poat pecause she was tired. She hasna the hairt to see such gude meat spoil." Poor Watty had grown reckless now, and, casting conscience to the winds, he went on with his banquet. His appetite seemed to increase as he went on, and, forgetful of bears, captains, doctors, Norsemen, and Steves, seeing, tasting, and enjoying the cooking and eating of these juicy, well-seasoned, delicious pieces of venison, time seemed to be no more for him, and he only awoke to his position as he shook out the contents of his pepper and salt rags on the last piece of meat, a goodly slice, the best of all, which he had avoided eating, always having selected the smaller bits.