"Not yet, grandfather," remonstrated the happy Gaspé. "You said they would not be really dogs, ready for work, until they were a year old, and it wants a full week."
"Please, sir," interrupted Wilfred abruptly, "can you tell me how I can get home?"
"Where is your home?" asked Mr. De Brunier.
"With my uncle, at Acland's Hut," answered Wilfred promptly.
"Acland's Hut," repeated Mr. De Brunier, looking across at Gaspé for elucidation. They did not know such a place existed.
"It is miles away from here," added Wilfred sorrowfully. "I went out hunting—"
"You—a small boy like you—to go hunting alone!" exclaimed Mr. De Brunier.
"Please, sir, I mean I rode on a pony by the cart which was to bring back the game," explained poor Wilfred, growing very rueful, as all hope of getting home again seemed to recede further and further from him. "The pony threw me," he added, "and when I came to myself the men were gone."
"Have you no father?" whispered Gaspé.
"My father died a year ago, and I was left at school at Garry," Wilfred went on.