We were wet
with spray, cramped from sitting still and holding on. But friendly
hands drew our boats to shore and helped us out.
VII
THE SECOND DAY ON THE FLATHEAD
In a way, this is a fairy-story. Because a good fairy had been busy
during our absence. Days before, at the ranger's cabin, unknown to most
of us, an order had gone down to civilization for food. During all those
days under Starvation Ridge, food had been on the way by
pack-horse--food and an extra cook.
So we went up to camp, expecting more canned salmon and fried trout and
little else, and beheld--
A festive board set with candles--the board, however, in this case is
figurative; it was the ground covered with a tarpaulin--fried chicken,
fresh green beans, real bread, jam, potatoes, cheese, cake, candy,
cigars, and cigarettes. And--champagne!
That champagne had traveled a hundred miles on horseback. It had been
cooled in the icy water of the river. We drank it out of tin cups. We
toasted each other. We toasted the Flathead flowing just beside us. We
toasted the full moon rising over the Kootenais.
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