Poor Fanny had no idea of the harm which her brother was meditating against her and her bird, nor indeed had any one else at table. After dinner, the whole party went into the grounds. The kind-hearted laird was sorry to see Norman looking so dull.
“He is a manly little fellow, and ought to have boy companions. I will do what I can to amuse him,” he thought. “Come along, Norman, with me, and we will try to find something to do.” The laird kindly took him by the hand, and led him along.
“When I am old enough, papa promises to give me a gun, that I may go out and shoot tigers,” said Norman. “Have you got any tigers here?”
“No, I am glad to say we have not. We should find them very troublesome, as they would commit great havoc among our sheep and cattle, and perhaps carry off the little boys and girls on their way to school as well as grown-up people.”
“We have plenty of tigers in India, and I think it a much finer country than England on that account,” remarked Norman in a contemptuous tone.
Mr Maclean laughed and replied—
“There were once wolves in the wilder parts of the country, but they have long since been killed, because they did so much mischief. The only large animals which now remain in a wild state, are deer, and they belong to the proprietors of the land, so that those alone to whom they give permission may shoot them.”
“But have you not got some deer?” asked Norman, “I should so like to see you shoot one.”
“My days for deer-stalking are over,” answered the laird. “There are a few on my estate, but I do not allow them to be shot. They are beautiful creatures, and I like to see them bounding across the hills and moors, and enjoying the existence God has given them.”
“I should like to shoot one though,” said Norman, giving his head a shake in an independent way. “Won’t you lend me your gun.”