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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The River's End"


"And from all that you came back the same day I came," she said in a
low, awed voice. "You came back from THAT!"
He remembered the part he must play.
"Yes, three years of it. If I could only remember as well, only half as
well, things that happened before this--" He raised a hand to his
forehead, to the scar.
"You will," she whispered swiftly. "Derry, darling, you will!"
Wallie sidled in and, with an adoring grin at Mary Josephine, suggested
that he had more coffee and toast ready to serve, piping hot. Keith was
relieved. The day had begun auspiciously, and over the bacon and eggs,
done to a ravishing brown by the little Jap, he told Mary Josephine of
some of his bills of fare in the north and how yesterday he had filled
up on bacon smell at Andy Duggan's. Steak from the cheek of a walrus,
he told her, was equal to porterhouse; seal meat wasn't bad, but one
grew tired of it quickly unless he was an Eskimo; polar bear meat was
filling but tough and strong. He liked whale meat, especially the
tail-steaks of narwhal, and cold boiled blubber was good in the winter,
only it was impossible to cook it because of lack of fuel, unless one
was aboard ship or had an alcohol stove in his outfit.


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