“Louise!” shouted Dan, as he also rose from the table.
“Oui, monsieur,” came, in polite deferential tones, from the culinary department, and the little half-breed maiden appeared at the door.
“Did you mend that shot-bag last night?”
“Oui, monsieur.”
“Fetch it here, then, please; and, Jessie, stir your stumps like a good girl, and get some food ready to take with us.”
“Will you tell me the precise way in which good girls stir their stumps?” asked Jessie; “for I’m not quite sure.”
Dan answered with a laugh, and went out to saddle his horse, followed by his brother and Duncan McKay.
“Rescuing seems to be the order of the day this year,” remarked Peter, as they walked towards the stable behind the cottage. “We’ve had a good deal of rescuing men in the winter, and now we are goin’ to rescue horses.”
“Rescuing is the grandest work that a fellow can undertake,” said Dan, “whether it be the body from death or the soul from sin.”
“What you say iss true—whatever,” remarked McKay, whose speech, although not so broad as that of his father, was tinged with similar characteristics. “It will be better to rescue than to kill.”