“For me?” cried Nic, flushing with excitement. Then hastily, “Oh no, I don’t want to shoot people.”
“You may if they want to kill you or those whom you love, my boy. But in any case you may want to shoot snakes and the wonderfully beautiful birds which you will see in the bush. A gun is a necessity for a settler, and so are those.”
She pointed to a parcel on a side table.
“Fetch those here, and open the paper.”
Nic fetched the strongly done-up packet, opened it with trembling fingers, and laid bare a beautifully finished axe and a sheath knife of the finest steel, with stout buckhorn handle and leathern belt.
“Not drawing-room presents, my boy,” said the lady, smiling, “but suitable for a young settler. There, you can squeeze those in your portmanteau; the gun you can have when we get over the sea.”
“But, Lady O’Hara!” faltered Nic; “the gun—such an expensive one.”
“Of course it is. Who’d buy cheap rubbish to take abroad? You want the plainest and the best that money can buy.”
“Yes, but I meant—”
“That they were too costly to accept? Not a bit, my boy. We owe your father a deep debt. Didn’t he doctor and save both our lives? And he’s a dreadfully obstinate man to deal with; but I can do as I like with you, so now hold your tongue.”