"Poor things!" said Susie.
She could hardly help feeling a little sorry for those three beautiful creatures on the sled; but Mrs. Stebbins curtly remarked,—
"Nonsense, my dear: they was made to be killed and eaten.—Deacon, did you and the boys kill any on 'em?"
She had a vague idea that the glory of that hunt must somehow have been won by "my Vosh;" but Susie had just time to say,—
"They look so innocent, so helpless!" when her uncle exclaimed,—
"Innocent! Helpless! That big buck was within an inch of making an end of me when Vosh came up and shot him.—He's your game, Mrs. Stebbins."
He forgot to mention that the fight with the buck was all his own fault, for he began it; but the story helped Susie out of her bit of soft-heartedness, and it made Mrs. Stebbins hold her head up amazingly.
"O father!" said Pen. "Did he hurt you? He's a dreadful deer."
"I think, Pen," said her father, "I'll let you eat some of him for supper."
There was venison-steak in abundance at table, and Corry was nearly justified in declaring,—