“What a perfect place,” he said, “for a picnic.”
“Eats,” Mike explained. “Big thick roast beef sandwiches and a thermos bottle full of cold milk.”
“You wouldn’t be hungry, would you?” Mr. Cook said with a smile.
“Oh no,” Mike assured him. “I’m not hungry, exactly. I’m just plain starved. I’m so lightheaded from not having any food that I can’t stay on the back of my horse. I keep floating away.”
“I’m afraid we can’t stop to cook a meal,” Hank told Mike. “These mountains are no fun in the dark.”
“The death sentence,” Mike muttered gloomily. “I’ll never make it.”
“Oh yes, you will,” Joe called out. “Indians used to travel for days with nothing more than a handful of dried corn. If they did it, so can you.”
“I’m a little out of practice,” Mike pointed out. “Besides, I don’t have any corn.”
“But, Mike,” Hank said, “there’s food all around you.”
“I know,” Mike replied gloomily. “I see it everywhere I look. Cold fried chicken, hot buttered rolls, strawberry shortcake....”
“No, I mean it,” Hank interrupted. “A man could live for days on the food that grows in the mountains.” He swung down from his horse and walked over to a whitebark pine. “See these cones?” He reached up, twisted one from a branch, and broke it open. A dozen tiny reddish-orange pellets spilled out into his hand. “These are pine nuts,” he explained, holding one up for Mike to take. “They’re like the piñon nuts that grow in the Southwest.”
Mike took an experimental bite. “They’re delicious,” he announced.
“Help yourself. Plenty more where that came from.” Hank walked over to a clump of grass that was laced with delicate-looking flowers. “Here’s something else,” he called, bending down to pull up the blossoms. Up through the earth came white roots that resembled onions. “Camass bulbs,” he said. “You boil them in water and they taste like potatoes. They saved the Lewis and Clark expedition more than once. If we looked hard enough, I imagine we could find some puffball mushrooms.”
“Just like regular mushrooms,” Hank explained, “but much bigger. Some of them grow to be the size of a basketball. Two of them will feed a dozen men. In the fall,” he went on, “these mountains are covered with golden currants. Wild grapes ripen later in the summer. What more could you ask for?”