"He's my Daddy, he's my dear," said Cassowary, skipping out of the stable. "If you want to see him, come right here."
Trailing Drunkard behind her she flew south across the barnyard and brought him up with a round turn at the door of a very up-to-date hen house.
"Good evening, precious pets," she said in a sweet voice as she flung open the door.
Faint clucks and hen whispers reached my ears, but when she turned on some bright lights several of the hens spoke to her quite amiably and distinctly, while a finely feathered Plymouth Rock rooster got off his perch and shaking his big wings came to put his beak in her hand.
"Even your hens have lights," said Dallas.
"Yes—they prolong the daylight and make them lay better. You must go see the power house to-morrow. It's back of this barn. Then we must visit the Falls on the Merry-Tongue River that gives us energy to make things hum here—Look at Daddy cocking his eye at you. He knows you're strange. Pet him a bit. Ah! that's right. Tell him you adore roosters."
"I adore roosters," said Dallas obligingly; then he began to laugh so violently that old Daddy started, gave him a reproachful glance and flew back to his place on the roost between two of the fattest hens.
"Who's calling me?" said the young girl as her pet left my young master.
From outside we could hear clear voices—"Cass—Cass—Cassowary!"
"Coming," she replied. "Dallas, you wait here, I want to show you the other hen houses," and she and the dog dashed away.