"When can bad men shoot them?" asked Dallas.
"Not till November, and then only one deer a man, but it isn't always bad to shoot them, Cousin. The government had 700 shot last year for settlers. Meat was so dear."
"But they would shoot mercifully," said Dallas.
"Oh! yes—when the Ontario Government shoots, it shoots to kill. It wouldn't torture man nor beast. Dad thinks deer should be shot every year if there is enough natural overflow from the parks. Precious as they are, hungry people are more precious. Now let's go home. We'll see if you remember my lesson about harnessing—Good night, Denty. Will you stay here till morning?"
He smiled cheerfully. "Why not? A couple of blankets on the grass, and the owls and the stars for company. It's Paradise compared with the trenches."
"Good boy," said Cassowary in a motherly way. "I might have known you wouldn't leave our wonderful Phantom alone in her suffering—Au revoir," and she went nimbly to the place where she had left the cart, and bossed Dallas unmercifully while he with active fingers harnessed me in what I thought was a very remarkable way for a boy who had had only one lesson.
"Room for improvement, Cousin," she said, "but you're doing fine."
Bolshy got in our way dreadfully. I did not like the manner in which he followed my young master about. He might be quite trustworthy, but when the soldier wasn't there to watch him he was too bold. He seemed perfectly fascinated by the boy, and Cassowary remarked that she thought the poor fellow in some way connected Dallas with his own dead children.
Now if there was any question of kidnapping, here was the person who would like to have my handsome little lad for his own charge.