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Updated: June 15, 2025
Hold on a minute, Doctor " For Saxham would have spoken. " The Chief had had his own private opinion, from the very first. He heard what my wife had to say. As you may guess, she'd worked herself up into a regular cooker of remorse and anxiety told him she was ready to go anywhere and do anything he'd only got to give her orders, and all that sort of thing!
Instincts the primitive, elemental impulses of the animal possessed them instead. To eat, to sleep, to be warm they asked nothing better. The night's supper was a vision that dwelt in their imaginations hour after hour throughout the entire day. Oh, to sit about the blue flame of alcohol sputtering underneath the old and battered cooker of sheet-iron!
I unloaded a sledge, and reloaded it with a couple of skins, the instruments, and a cooker with enough alcohol and food for one meal for three, and then I turned in to the igloo where my boys were already sound asleep. The thermometer registered 29° below zero.
Eventually we got off the steep ice, very gratefully, at a point where some rocks protruded, and we could see then that there was a perilous precipice directly below the point where we had started to cut steps. A slide down a slippery slope, with the adze and our cooker going ahead, completed this descent, and incidentally did considerable damage to our much-tried trousers.
"You don't mean to say that you do the cooking for this happy family!" Joyce laughed at his surprised tone. "That's what makes it a happy family. No domestic service problems. With a gas range, a fireless cooker and all the conveniences of our little kitchenette, it's mere play after my Wigwam experiences.
He could see on its face the Division headquarters stamp Lethbridge but why all this ceremony and pother about an official note that came almost every day? He recalled suddenly that his wife would be holding lunch for him with fresh fish he had seen unloaded little more than an hour ago from the through train from Vancouver. He could almost smell it sizzling on the natural gas cooker. "Hm-m!"
When things are quiet, and Fritz is behaving like a gentleman, which seldom happens, Tommy has the opportunity of making dessert. This is "trench pudding." It is made from broken biscuits, condensed milk, jam a little water added, slightly flavored with mud put into a canteen and cooked over a little spirit stove known as "Tommy's cooker."
But no sooner were the tents up than eyes looked out gladly from our dirty, bearded faces. Once again the cooker boiled, and for that night we had a really good square meal more than enough of everything pemmican with pieces of pony meat in it, a chocolate biscuit, "ragout" raisins, caramels, ginger, cocoa, butter, and a double ration of biscuits.
"Everything in it is already cooked because she is almost blind and cooking is harder for her than it is for most people. There is a roast chicken and the vegetables are all done and put in covered bowls packed around with excelsior so that their heat won't be lost." "Like a fireless cooker."
"No one knows!" "Oh ... oh...." All her high nerves came scudding and shuddering down into the meadows of content. Eternal luck.... She crept under Stewart's eiderdown and shivered. "Here's the chocolate. I will boil it again on my cooker. Oh, you have a sort of ague...." Good friend ... kind friend! She had pictured her like that, anxious, unquestioning and warm!
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