Oh! what a nice young man he was, and so devoted to his ponies and horses. He was not at all good-looking. His hair was sandy and his complexion freckled, but the kindness of his face and the charm of his manner made up for the absence of good looks.
He stood as straight as one of the stall posts, and talked about farm matters in as interested a way as if the place belonged to him.
"We missed you," said Cassowary. "Dad and Mother don't like to play without their second fiddle."
"And I missed you," he said. "It was often lonely over the mountain."
"But camping out is great fun," said Champ. "Me for the open."
"Dallas, come here," said Cassowary suddenly to my young master, who was in the background.
It pleased me immensely to see that the young man could not keep the admiration out of his eyes when he shook hands with my dear young master.
"And he sings," exclaimed Cassowary. "Won't he be an addition to our choir!"
Big Chief, who was in a nearby stall picking the hoofs of his Hackney as he had got some small stones in them on his trip home, gave a kind of groan. He hated to hear anyone praise Dallas.
Cassowary was just going to snap at Big Chief when she caught sight of the fire warden's red canoe coming up the lake.