Henry gave a superior laugh.
“What for! You’ve not read much about outlaws, I guess. They always drove in cattle from the surroundin’ districks.”
“Well, what for?” said William again, giving a tug at his handkerchief, which the infant still refused to release.
“Well—er—well—to kill an’ roast, I suppose,” said Henry lamely.
“Well, go on,” said William. “Kill it an’ roast it. We’re not stoppin’ you, are we? Kill it an’ roast it—an’ get hung for murder. I s’pose it’s murder to kill cows same as it is to kill people—’cept for butchers.”
The cow advanced slowly and deprecatingly towards the “kidnap,” who promptly dropped the handkerchief and beamed with joy.
“Bow-wow!” it said excitedly.
“Anyway, let’s get on with the feast,” said Douglas.
“Feast!” echoed Ginger bitterly. “Feast! Not much feast left! That baby William brought’s used all the paraffin-oil and potatoes, and it’s squashed the apple-dumpling, and William’s washed its face in the licorice water.”
Henry gazed at it dispassionately and judicially.