I smell meat--fresh meat!" With a chuckle of pleasure Mukoki jumped to his feet and ran out to where the ribs of the doe were slowly broiling over the fire.

They were already done to a rich brown and their dripping juice filled the nostrils with an appetizing odor.

By the time Wabi had applied Mukoki's prescription to his comrade's wounds, and had done them up in bandages, the tempting feast was spread before them.
As a liberal section of the ribs was placed before him, together with corn-meal cakes and a cup of steaming coffee, Rod could not suppress a happy though somewhat embarrassed laugh.
"I'm ashamed of myself, Wabi," he said.

"Here I've been causing so much bother, like some helpless kid; and now I find I haven't even the excuse of a broken arm, and that I'm as hungry as a bear! Looks pretty yellow, doesn't it?
Just as though I was scared to death! So help me, I almost wish my arm _was_ broken!" Mukoki had buried his teeth in a huge chunk of fat rib, but he lowered it with a great chuckling grunt, half of his face smeared with the first results of his feast.
"Whole lot sick," he explained.

"Be sick some more--mighty sick! Maybe vomit lots!" "Waugh!" shrieked Wabi.