"Why, there he is now," she cried, glancing through the window. "Maurice isn't with him, though. I know that old punt as far as I can see it. I must get the potatoes and bacon on; he'll be hungry as a bear."
Landon put on his hat and went down to the beach to welcome their visitor. "Well, Billy," he called as the punt appeared around the bend in the shore, "how many ducks did old Liza-Ann drop out of the sky this mornin'?"
"Two greys and a mallard," Billy answered over his shoulder. "Could'a killed more, but what's the use. They wouldn't keep; weather's too warm."
"Well now, I can't see why a dozen wouldn't keep as well as three," returned the keeper, as he pulled the punt high on shore.
"They would, I s'pose," laughed Billy as he stepped out, followed by Moll, the little spaniel, "but these three don't have to keep long; you see we're goin' to have these fer dinner."
"Are we now?" Landon rubbed his hands and smacked his lips in anticipation. "You're goin' to stay and help clean up on 'em, Billy?"
"Yep, I'll stay. I'm goin' to paint Erie's skiff fer her. I'll slip into the ponds ag'in on my way to the Settlement an' kill enough ducks fer our folks an' the neighbors."
Erie was waving to him from the kitchen door. "Where's Maurice?" she called.
"His Ma wouldn't let him come. Afraid he'd get wet an' go sick ag'in. Gee! that coffee smells good, Erie."
"Go 'long in and tackle it while it's hot," advised Landon. "I'll start in on pluckin' these birds. But first we'll have to let Chick see 'em. Say, Billy, they're nigh as big as tame 'uns!"