I wasn't hungry, then! Osage, Montana, failed to rouse any enthusiasm in me when I saw the place next day, except that it offered possibilities in the way of eating--at least, I fancied it did, until I stepped down upon the narrow platform and looked about me.

It was two o'clock in the afternoon, and I had fasted since dinner the evening before.

I was not happy.
I began to see where I might have economized a bit, and so have gone on eating regularly to the end of the journey.

I reflected that stewed terrapin, for instance, might possibly be considered an extravagance under the circumstances; and a fellow sentenced to honest toil and exiled to the wilderness should not, it seemed to me then, cause his table to be sprinkled, quite so liberally as I had done, with tall glasses--nor need he tip the porter quite so often or so generously.

A dollar looked bigger to me, just then, than a wheel of the _Yellow Peril_.