“Oh, as far south as that—”
As far south? Was she out of her mind?
“There are plenty of ptarmigan and rabbits and things, where Mr. Mar is.”
“Are there? But he’s lame. How can he go shooting—”
“Other people can, especially the natives, and you may be sure your father will have his share. Besides, he’ll fish. Mr. Mar’ll like that part of it.”
“How can you be so heartless!”
“What do you mean?”
“How is my father to fish in rivers frozen hard as iron?”
“Through holes in the ice, of course!” Bella defended the idea warmly. “You’ll see,” she spoke as if she’d personally tested the efficacy of the device; “you’ll see they’ll get fish all winter that way.”