While Dan turned the birds now and again they planned feasts and talked of good things they had eaten and longed to eat again, until Dan finally announced: “Well, they’s done.” “It was just enough to make me hungrier,” declared Paul when the last morsel had been eaten, even to the tender bones, and thoroughly enjoyed, though they had no salt for seasoning. Dan reached over for the entrails, wound one upon the end of each stick, and, handing Paul one of the sticks, began to broil his own over the coals. “What you going to do with them?” asked Paul. “Eat ’em,” announced Dan. “You remember th’ way th’ huskies done? I’m thinkin’ if they’s good for huskies they’s good for us.” “I don’t know,” said Paul, hesitating. Then like one plunging into a cold bath he followed Dan’s example, remarking, as he watched the swelling, sputtering things: “It’s funny the way people change. When I saw the Eskimos eat them I thought it was a terrible thing to do, but it doesn’t seem so bad now.” “Dad says folks can eat most anything if they’s hungry enough.” “I guess he’s right.” “They’re not so bad,” said Dan, tasting an end of his. “They’re really pretty good,” asserted Paul, gingerly taking a mouthful. “I was thinkin’ we better not waste un. We’ll have t’ save th’ little grub we has in th’ tent for a time when we’ll need un more, an’ be livin’ now on what we kills.” It was a day of good fortune. On their return to camp they made a wide detour, exploring a section that Dan had not yet visited, and suddenly, while skirting a marsh in the center of which was a pond, Dan grabbed Paul by the arm. “Geese!” he exclaimed. The pond was discovered to be a widening of a brook, flowing to the southward to join their river. “Now we’ll crawl up along th’ willow brush, an’ don’t be shootin’ till I says to,” directed Dan. “When I says ‘shoot,’ take th’ nighest one with one barrel an’ th’ next nighest with t’ other barrel, an’ be steady, fer ’t means grub. I’ll give ’em bullets with th’ rifle.” Cautiously and silently they crawled foot by foot along the lee of the willow bushes that lined the brook. Once Paul inadvertently broke a twig and an old gander held up his head in alarm. They threw themselves flat and lay like logs in the snow until the gander assuming that he was mistaken in his premonition of danger, resumed feeding. It was a moment of intense excitement for the young hunters. “Now,” whispered Dan, when they had at length come abreast of the geese, “an’ be careful.” Slowly they brought their guns to their shoulders, still lying flat on the ground, and fired. Instantly there was a great commotion among the geese, which, instead of rising and flying away, half ran on the surface of the water, flapping their wings to help them in their retreat. The guns rang out again. Before Paul, in his excitement, could reload, the game was quite out of range of his shotgun, but Dan with his rifle fired several more shots after the retreating birds.