“Of course,” said Mackenzie, “you will want a keeper or guide.”
“Shall we?”
“Oh, yes, most certainly; and I’ll send you one.”
He retired for that purpose.
Presently into the room marched pretty Maggie May herself, with a bag slung over her shoulder, and in her hand a tiny double-barrelled fowling-piece.
After her came her father.
“Boys,” he said, smiling, “behold your keeper!”
Both lads looked astonished, but especially Willie.
“Why—why,” he ejaculated, “you never mean to say that she can let a gun off?”
“She is a very good sportsman, indeed,” said her father proudly. “I myself would go with you, but I am busy to-day. She knows the whereabouts of every bird on the glebe and on the hills. Trust her.”