TALBOT
(helping to prepare).
The very smell of it makes me ravenous. (To Genn.) I wonder where your
Uncle is, and Colonel Fairfax?

GENN.
Miles from here, doubtless. (Stretches.) But I _am_ stiff!

WASHINGTON.
And where can Carey be?

TALBOT.
Oh, Carey's lagged behind to get a shot at some grouse that he means to
have for supper. Hark!

CAREY
(In background).
Lads! Lads! Where be ye?

WASHINGTON
(calling in answer).
Here, Carey, here. (To the others.) That's he, now. Well, Carey, what
luck?

CAREY
(entering from background).
Any luck but pot luck. Missed both times. No grouse for us. I almost
wish I'd raided some frontiersman's cabin.