"It's a Whisky Jack, man, an' he's the first and last living thing I've seen in the way of fowl between here and Fond du Lac.

He weighs four ounces if he weighs an ounce, and we'll feast on him shortly.

I haven't had a full mouth of grub since day before yesterday morning, but you're welcome to a half of him, if you're hungry enough." "Where'd your chuck go ?" asked Philip.
He was conscious of a new warmth and comfort in his veins, but it was not this that sent a heat into his face at the outlaw's offer.

DeBar had saved his life, and now, when DeBar might have killed him, he was offering him food.

The man was spitting the bird on the sharpened end of a stick, and when he had done this he pointed to the big Mackenzie hound, tied to the broken stub of a dead sapling.
"I brought enough bannock to carry me to Chippewayan, but he got into it the first night, and what he left was crumbs.