He cut out the buffalo's tongue--a matter of great difficulty to one in his weak state--and carried it to a pleasant spot near to the stream where the turf was level and green, and decked with wild flowers.

Here he resolved to make his camp.
His first care was to select a bush whose branches were long enough to form a canopy over his head when bent, and the ends thrust into the ground.

The completing of this exhausted him greatly, but after a rest he resumed his labours.

The next thing was to light a fire--a comfort which he had not enjoyed for many weary days.

Not that he required it for warmth, for the weather was extremely warm, but he required it to cook with, and the mere _sight_ of a blaze in a dark place is a most heart-cheering thing, as every one knows.
When the fire was lighted he filled his pannikin at the brook and put it on to boil, and cutting several slices of buffalo tongue, he thrust short stakes through them and set them up before the fire to roast.