cause
Roy had to get his pork ready, the volunteer cook permitted Philip to
finish the fashioning of a bannock as big as the frying pan,--the only
cooking utensil that Roy had thought necessary to bring with them.

"Now," exclaimed Roy, as he deposited a generous piece of salt pork in
the frying pan, "I'll show you how the hungry trapper makes a supper fit
for a king."

As the pork began to sizzle in the pan those who were eagerly watching
the amateur cook saw the piece separating into thin sections.

"You see, that's what we trappers always do," explained Roy rather
proudly. "You can't slice pork when it's frozen solid. I sliced my pork
before we left camp this morning."

By this time the rashers of pork were swimming about in the hot fat like
doughnuts in bubbling lard.

"It certainly smells all right," exclaimed Paul, as the appetizing odor
from the frying meat filled the snow cave. "Hurry up and give us a
piece."

Roy made no reply but busied himself stirring the bits of meat with the
point of his knife.

"Is the bread ready?" the cook asked, turning to Philip.

The Indian only pointed to the big ball of dough flattened out like a
gigantic pancake and ready for the skillet.

There upon Roy seized the handle of his frying pan, shifted the skillet
to one side and, resting it on the snow, began to flip the bits of salt
pork onto the snow floor.

"Here, what are you doing?" shouted Norman.

"You don't eat those scraps," announced Roy positively. "The only good in
pork is the fat and the fat's all in the skillet. We trappers give these
scraps to the dogs--only we ain't got any dogs."

"Well I'll be a dog all right," exclaimed Norman and as fast as Roy
flipped the brown rashers out with his knife point Norman and Paul
grabbed them up.

"There ain't any need of doin' that," snorted Roy. "I tell you there
ain't any good in those things and it's against all the rules anyhow.
You'll get all the fat you want when our bannock's done."

"Well, then, why don't you start it?" asked Paul. "I suppose it'll take
it an hour to cook. And your fat's getting cold anyway."

"That's where you show your ignorance," retorted Roy. "I suppose you
fellows think I don't know my business. If I'd put that bannock right
into this hot fat it would have fried like a doughnut. I've got to get
this grease soaked up in my bread. That's why I'm lettin' the grease get
cool."

With this he took the flat looking loaf from the Indian's h