"I'd hate to kill one of those feasting brown things," said Dallas. "They do seem to enjoy life so much."
"Kill them!" squealed Cassowary. "I'd like to see you try. They're never killed. They're sold to stockmen—good stockmen. Big Chief found one farmer was going to ring the snout of London Fog there, and he howled so that Dad had to call off the sale."
"Why ring the snout?" asked Dallas.
"To prevent their rooting. This farmer lived in a good fat farming country. Up here it's wild and poor land for farms. We use the pigs to clear fields for grain."
"How can pigs clear fields?"
"They root the soil from around stumps and rocks. The men either pile up the rocks or put them in a crusher to make good roadbeds."
"That's a fine road along the lake," said Dallas.
"Yes, because Dad believes that good roads open up a country. He says he wishes his crusher would break enough rocks to make a highway to the North Pole."
"Your Dad is a perfectly splendid man," said Dallas enthusiastically.