“What were you thinking about, Kasba?” he asked. Then, “Oh, I’ve shot three deer!” he cried with boyish enthusiasm, without waiting for a reply. Kasba was glad of the boy’s abstraction and bent a tell-tale face over the half-cooked cakes.
“But you must be hungry,” she said, handing the boy one newly-baked which he took and began to devour ravenously. He threw himself on the empty sugar case and the cake disappeared in big mouthfuls, while his large dark eyes flashed about the room.
He was a healthy-looking boy, with a bright, happy face. The blood in his cheeks shone through the dark skin, giving him a ruddy color pleasant to look upon.
In a remarkably short space of time David finished his meal and his wandering eyes came back to the girl by the stove. She was brewing a kettle of tea.
“We will go for the deer to-morrow,” she said. “Why, you are getting quite a hunter! Is it far?”
“Just this side of the ‘big hill.’” Then he paused and his brow grew suddenly dark. “You’ve been crying!” he exclaimed, fiercely, springing to his feet. Then catching Kasba by the arm, he gazed searchingly into her face. “What is it?” he cried sharply. Dropping the girl’s arm he stood with angry eyes and clenched fists. “Was it Ball-eye?” (white-man, in this case meaning Broom) he asked.
The girl hesitated and dropped her eyes.
“It was Ball-eye,” he cried with conviction. “I can see by your face it was.” Then waving his clenched hands in the air he danced about the room in fiery anger. “Curse him!” he shouted. “If ever I catch him sneaking round after you, I’ll—I’ll put a bullet in him, that’s what I’ll do.”
“David! David! Please don’t!” cried Kasba in great dismay, seizing him round the neck. “You must not talk like that. You will get into trouble.” With this she sank on the seat he had vacated and drew him down beside her.
David’s anger died suddenly. He was now struggling manfully to keep back the big tears which threatened to overwhelm him.