But still Ranald made no reply, and they rode on through the bush in silence till they came to the clearing beyond. As they entered the brule, Ranald checked his colt, and holding up his hand, said, “Listen!”
Through the quiet evening air, sweet and clear as a silver bell, came the long, musical note of the call that brings the cows home for the milking. It was Bella's voice: “Ko—boss, ko—boss, ko—boss!”
Far across the brule they could see her standing on a big pine stump near the bars, calling to her cows that were slowly making toward her through the fallen timber, pausing here and there to crop an especially rich mouthful, and now and then responding to her call with soft lowings. Gently Bella chid them. “Come, Blossom, come away now; you are very lazy. Come, Lily; what are you waiting for? You slow old poke!” Then again the long, musical note: “Ko—boss, ko—boss, ko—boss!”
Ranald groaned aloud, “Och-hone! It will be her last glad hour,” he said; “it is a hard, hard thing.”
“Poor child, poor child!” said Mrs. Murray; “the Lord help her. It will be a cruel blow.”
“That it is, a cruel blow,” said Ranald, bitterly; so bitterly that Mrs. Murray glanced at him in surprise and saw his face set in angry pain.
“The Lord knows best, Ranald,” she said, gravely, “and loves best, too.”
“It will break her heart, whatever,” answered Ranald, shortly.
“He healeth the broken in heart,” said Mrs. Murray, softly. Ranald made no reply, but let the colt take her way through the brule toward the lane into which Bella had now got her cows. How happy the girl was! Joy filled every tone of her voice. And why not? It was the springtime, the time of life and love. Long winter was gone, and soon her brothers would be back from the shanties. “And Mack, too,” she whispered to her happy heart.
“And are ye sure the news is true?
And are ye sure he's weel?
Is this a time to think o' wark?
Ye jades, fling by your wheel.
“For there's nae luck aboot the hoose,
There's nae luck ava,
There's little pleesure in the hoose
When oor gude man's awa.”