“Yes,” replied Bob. “I’ll do my best. Listen, then, my children, and you shall hear the wonderful tale of Goose Bay.”
“I knew a goose had a tail, but I didn’t know Goose Bay had a tail.”
“Well, it has,” replied Bob, as he pretended to kick a live coal toward the mocker. “This is the tale of Goose Bay. Many years ago, away back in 1813, the British and Americans were at war. I know just how much you know about that, so I’ll not go into particulars.”
“Don’t,” drawled Ben. “I’m beginning to feel sleepy already.”
“Well,” resumed Bob, “it was about the middle of July in that year. Our forces were over at Sackett’s Harbor, but they weren’t having much excitement, so it was decided to fit out an expedition and come around the lake to Cape Vincent and then go on a cruise down the St. Lawrence, seeking whom they might devour.”
“I thought it was a lion, a ro-a-a-ring lion that did that,” interrupted Bert.
“So it is sometimes.”
“But wasn’t it the British lion you were telling about? Now I could understand how a lion, a real genuine British lion, might go roaring around, but when the eagle, the genuine American eagle, starts out on an expedition, I never thought of him as ‘roaring.’ What is a roaring eagle, Bob? Any relation to a soaring lion?”
“Oh, hold on, Bert, give Bob a chance to tell his story,” said Jock.
“Story? Story? What more of a ‘story’ do you want than that? The American eagle going down the St. Lawrence roaring and seeking whom he might devour. Is that where ‘Goose’ Bay got its name, Bob?”