“She ain’t skeered o’ nothin’ that walks,” muttered Young Dave, with admiration.
The strong face darkened.
“Yes, I am, Davey,” she answered; “I’m afeard of evil tongues.”
“Well, my girl, here ye’re well quit of ’em,” said the old lumberman, a slow anger burning on his rough-hewn face as he thought of certain busy backbiters in the Settlement.
Just then Miranda’s small voice chimed in.
“Oh, Davey,” she cried, catching gleefully at the boy’s leg, “look at the nice, great big dog!” And her little brown finger pointed to a cluster of stumps, of all shapes and sizes, far over on the limits of the clearing. Her wide, brown eyes danced elvishly. The others followed her gaze, all staring intently; but they saw no excuse for her excitement.
“It might be a b’ar she sees,” said Old Dave; “but I can’t spot it.”
“They’re plenty hereabouts, I suppose,” said Kirstie, rather indifferently, letting her eyes wander to other portions of her domain.
“Ain’t no bear there,” asserted Young Dave, with all the confidence of his years. “It’s a stump!”
“Nice big dog! I want it, mother,” piped Miranda, suddenly darting away. But her mother’s firm hand fell upon her shoulder.