“I’ll come back and skin him for you when I have taken the cows home. Perhaps I can shoot something for your father’s supper, too, on my way.”
“Oh, never mind that; he’s sure to bring home something, for he has gone to the McCormick’s new house, and that is some distance. But come back, do, and help me get my supper. I shall shut the door and window tight after this, for I want no more wolves for company, though I’d rather it were a wolf than an Indian.”
“Your father expected that you were at our house,” said Archie, “perhaps you had better come with me.”
“I must get the cow up first. Can you wait?”
“Well enough. I will get our own cows at the same time; then while you are milking, I will skin the wolf, and then we can go together.”
The tinkle of the cow-bells sounded not so far off and it was not long before Archie and Agnes were trudging along side by side, the carcass of the wolf having been thrown into the river and the hide stretched for drying.
“And why didn’t you go to the house-raising?” asked Agnes.
“Because I was needed at home.”
“What will they be doing to-day?”
“They’ll finish up the odds and ends; make some tables and stools and benches and get it ready for to-morrow.”