Casey went back to camp and got another can, this time of strawberry, and in a spirit of peevishness added a small tin of the liver paste that had caused him a night's discomfort.

He took them to the tepee, and Injun Jim ate the complete contents of both cans and seemed disgruntled afterwards; so much so that he would not talk at all but smoked in brooding silence, staring with his one malevolent eye at the stained wall of the tepee.
An hour later he began to move himself restlessly in the blanket and to mutter Piute words, the full meaning of which Casey did not grasp.

But he would not answer when he was spoken to, so Casey went back to his camp.
And that night Injun Jim was very sick.
Next day however he was sufficiently recovered to want more jam.

Casey filled his pockets with small cans and doled them out one by one and gossipped artfully while he watched Injun Jim eat pickles, India relish and jelly with absolute, inscrutable impartiality.

Casey felt sympathetic qualms in his own stomach just from watching the performance, but he was talking for a gold mine and he did not stop.
"You know Willow Pete ?" he asked garrulously.