"No, not my little Dovey."
"Then it's Champ."
"My boy Champ—oh! never. My dear, he was born in his grandmother's house."
"Then it's Sojer."
The guesses were narrowing down. Mrs. Devering paused an instant, then she said in a low voice, "Sojer—the boy who is the image of my dead father. Oh! no, Sojer is your own brother."
"Then," said the boy, "if it's not me, it's Cassowary."
"Yes, yes," she said slowly, and nodding her head many times, "it's our dear Cassowary."
Big Chief gave a great cry, then he broke away from his mother and launched himself at his father so violently that he almost knocked the poor man over.
"Oh! Dad, Dad, I'm a happy boy. I was most dead. I thought I'd jump into the Lake of Bays if I missed the boat."
The tears were running down Mrs. Devering's cheeks too. She sat on the bank her head against the stout body of the old King of the Glen whose arms were waving happily, though there was not a breath of wind. Her eyes were closed, her lips moving.