This was temper—poor lad! he had been so proud of himself with his boasting about what he would do if a wild animal appeared, and when it did come he had scuttled to the nearest shelter.
Mr. Devering came and stood over him. The boy was just raging now, and snapping out words. "I didn't think I'd run. I thought I'd make a stand. I didn't know I was a quitter."
"Did you ever see a wild animal before outside a Zoo?" Mr. Devering bawled at him, for the boy was making so much noise that an ordinary voice would not have pierced his ears.
"No, I never did—I wasn't on to him. I'm not acquainted with wolves and bears—I hate this place. I want to go back to my father and Margie and John."
Mr. Devering spoke to me in a low voice as I stood gazing regretfully at my undignified young master. "A good time for a sermon, Prince Fetlar, but it will keep—— Come on Lammie," and turning to the suffering animal he walked slowly toward the trail, the lamb limping after him.
Of course I stayed by our angry young lad, and presently getting over his temper, he lifted his swollen face.
He was alone with me, and the wolf might still be lurking in the spruces. So he thought, and didn't he jump up and go stumbling over the grass, slipping, falling, getting up again, dashing the tears from his eyes, and muttering to himself.
But soon a very cheerful sound from far ahead floated back to him. Ah! that was one of the songs we used to hear in our own dear country when our boys went marching away to war.
"Put all your troubles in your old kit bag,
And smile, smile, smile!"