Me, now, I'm more of a Joshua tree." Donald Whiting laughed, as Linda intended that he should.
A minute afterward she slid the savory food from a skewer upon one of the pie pans, tossed back the cover from the little table, stacked some bread-and-butter sandwiches beside the meat and handed the pan to Donald.
"Fall to," she said, "and prove that you're a man with an appreciative tummy.

Father used to be positively ravenous for this stuff.

I like it myself." She slid the food from the second skewer to a pan for herself, settled the fire to her satisfaction and they began their meal.

Presently she filled a cup from the bucket beside her and handed it to Donald.

At the same time she lifted another for herself.
"Here's to the barrel cactus," she said.