"I'll call it the 'United States Grill,'" I said suddenly, as if by
inspiration.
"Three rousing cheers for the U.S. Grill!" shouted Cousin Egbert to
the surrounding hills, and repairing to the hut he brought out hot
toddies with which we drank success to the new enterprise. For a
half-hour, I dare say, we discussed details there in the cold night,
not seeing that it was quite preposterously bizarre. Returning to the
hut at last, Cousin Egbert declared himself so chilled that he must
have another toddy before retiring, and, although I was already
feeling myself the equal of any American, I consented to join him.
Just before retiring again my attention centred a second time upon the
bearskin before my bed and, forgetting that I had already inquired
about it, I demanded of him if he had killed the animal. "Sure," said
he; "killed it with one shot just as it was going to claw me. It was
an awful big one."
Morning found the three of us engrossed with the new plan, and by the
time our guest rode away after luncheon the thing was well forward and
I had the Mixer's order upon her estate agent at Red Gap for admission
to the vacant premises. During the remainder of the day, between games
of cribbage, Cousin Egbert and I discussed the venture.
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