"Inside of two days he'll be eating out of my hand," he said.
It was not long before the camp became very quiet. Langdon, Bruce, and the
Indian rolled themselves in their blankets and were soon asleep. The fire
burned lower and lower. Soon there was only a single smouldering log. An
owl hooted a little deeper in the timber. The drone of the valley and the
mountains filled the peaceful night. The stars grew brighter. Far away
Muskwa heard the rumbling of a boulder rolling down the side of a mountain.
There was nothing to fear now. Everything was still and asleep but himself,
and very cautiously he began to back down the tree. He reached the foot of
it, loosed his hold, and half fell into the basin of condensed milk, a part
of it slopping up over his face. Involuntarily he shot out his tongue and
licked his chops, and the sweet, sticky stuff that it gathered filled him
with a sudden and entirely unexpected pleasure. For a quarter of an hour he
licked himself. And then, as if the secret of this delightful ambrosia had
just dawned upon him, his bright little eyes fixed themselves covetously
upon the tin basin. He approached it with commendable strategy and caution,
circling first on one side of it and then on the other, every muscle in his
body prepared for a quick spring backward if it should make a jump for
him.
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