"Half—his mother was Ontario born, his father came from Quebec. His name is Dentais but we call his son Denty."
Like all woodsmen, the young man had good ears, and at this moment he turned his head, got up slowly and came to greet us.
His sad face became quite bright at sight of Cassowary, "Glad to see you, Mademoiselle," he said, taking off his cap, and holding it in his hand.
"How are you to-day?" she asked.
"Better—my head is almost all right now, thanks to him," and he pointed to the Russian who was staring at us.
"Is he much trouble now?" asked Cassowary in a low voice.
"No, not now, he is getting into line—what's the matter, Bolshy?"
The Russian, pawing the air with one big hand, was shaking his loose cotton shirt with the other. "He's thanking you for it," said Denty.
"Oh! that's nothing," remarked Cassowary shyly. "I was glad to make it for him. I'm afraid the stitches are pretty big though. I hate to sew."