"Now what new thing is that?" asked my young master.
"It's something some people believe in another Dominion of our Empire."
"What Dominion?"
"Australia—the blacks there say that one day when fishes lived on land they were all gathered together around a fire near a river. A dreadful wind arose and blew them and the fire into the water. The fire was a nice fire and went on burning and the fishes gathered round it and it never goes out. That's why you are always warmer under water on a cold day than you are on land."
"I believe it, I believe it," said my young master. "I believe anything about animals. I never think fish are stupid."
"And speaking of winds," said Cassowary, "old Mrs. Petpeswick at the head of the lake had her flock of twenty-three geese blown off the land by a wild gale, and they came ashore on our beach, and we took them back to her, and she said, 'Praise the Lord. I just wanted to see some of you to borrow a little money. I was too ill to get down to you.' Now, cousin, let me take the reins, we are coming to a wild wild road that leads to a wild wild house."
It was a wild side road that led from this main one up to a slight hill above the river, and the tree branches brushed the cart as we went along it.
"The warden goes everywhere by canoe," said Cassowary, "or by skates and snowshoes in winter for everything here freezes over. That's his house on the crown of this hill. He calls it the Last House, because there isn't another one till you get 'way up the river past three sets of falls and into Algonquin Park. Now, Pony lamb, we'll not leave you here alone," and to my joy, she sprang out of the cart and began to take off all my harness.
"Don't throw it on the ground, Dallas," she said. "Put it in the cart, and hand me that halter under the seat. Now excelsior!"
We climbed the hill after her to the green cottage. "Not a soul about," she said. "Let's go in," and she dropped the halter shank and left me outside.