William King chuckled. "You just get a touch of lumbago, Miss Harriet, and you'll believe in my tricks."
"Lumbago!" said his reviler. "Not I; a day's shooting would cure it quicker than a barrel of your pills."
"Been shooting this morning?"
"No; I set a trap in Dawson's hollow." She pulled out the rabbit and held it up. "Not a bone broken. Handsome, isn't he? Poor little thing!"
William looked at the soft, furry creature, limp in the big brown hand, with critical appreciation. "Yes, beautiful. Miss Annie didn't find him, to let him out?"
The hunter's face changed to amused impatience. "Willy, she opened three traps last week. And she was so shrewd about it; you would never believe how clever she is. Of course it's no use to scold."
"Of course not. What excuse does she make?"
"Oh, just the same thing: 'Sister, it hurts me to think they can't get out.'"
"Poor thing!" said the doctor.
"I have tried to make her promise not to interfere with the traps. You know, if I could once get a promise out of her I would be all right; Annie never broke a promise in her life. But she is too shrewd to be led into it. She always says, 'I'm the oldest, and you mustn't order me round.' It would be funny if it weren't so provoking."