Another thing bothered me: Mink did not seem to suffer from insects or
heat; in fact, to my intense annoyance, he appeared to be having a
comfortable time of it, eating and drinking with gusto, sleeping snugly
under a mosquito bar, permitting me to do all camp work, the paddling as
long as we used a canoe, and all the cooking, too, claiming, on his part,
a complete ignorance of culinary art.
Sometimes he condescended to catch a few fish for the common pan;
sometimes he bestirred himself to shoot a duck or two. But usually he
played on his concertina during his leisure moments which were plentiful.
I began to detest Samuel Mink.
At first I was murderously suspicious of him, and I walked about with my
automatic arsenal ostentatiously displayed. But he looked like such a
miserable little shrimp that I became ashamed of my precautions. Besides,
as he cheerfully pointed out, a little koonti soaked in my drinking
water, would have done my business for me if he had meant me any physical
harm. Also he had a horrid habit of noosing moccasins for sport; and it
would have been easy for him to introduce one to me while I slept.
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