"Father," said Denty again, "you have not been long away this time."
"I came," began the older man, then he stopped. "I came because I heard a shot," and he pointed to the doe. "Now I go again."
"For what, Father?" asked the young man.
The man said a few ugly French words under his breath, then he spoke to the dog, "Come! Ravaud."
"But you will have something to eat?"
"I stop for nothing," said the father irritably.
"You are going after the poachers?" said Mr. Devering.
"Yes. I found the ashes of their last night's fire."
Mr. Devering never said a word. He went scampering down the hill like a boy, and I tore after him.
Didn't he break up that picnic party in the twinkling of an eye, and didn't his fine little wife help him! The slow eaters were just at the cake and pie stage of the affair. She bundled them into the boat, promising more good things on the water, and after them went rugs, cushions, baskets, pots and pans.