" Ah! said the doctor, in his most complacent manner, "here is the opportunity I have long been waiting for. I have often desired to test and taste the indian mode of cooking. What do you suppose this is?" holding up the dripping morsel.

Unable to obtain the desired information, the doctor, whose naturally good appetite had been sensibly sharpened by his recent exercise á la quadrupède, set to with a will and ate heartily of the mysterious contents of the kettle.

"What can this be?" again inquired the doctor. He was only satisfied on one point, that it was delicious - a dish fit for a king.

Just then Gurrier, the half-breed, entered the lodge. He could solve the mystery, having spent years among the Indians. To him the doctor appealed for information.

Fishing out a huge piece and attacking it with the voracity of a hungry wolf, he was not long in determining what the doctor had supped so heartily upon.

His first words settled the mystery: "Why this is dog."

I will not attempt to repeat the few but emphatic words uttered by the headily disgusted member of the medical fraternity as he rushed from the lodge. "

― George Armstrong Custer , My Life on the Plains: Or, Personal Experiences with Indians