His own Sempronia! She was only three years old, and stone dead. The bullet had taken her just behind the slender haunch that Marvin had noted. Across the body lay the form of the Little Pine, with his arms around her neck. He had ceased to stroke her, had abandoned the effort to call her back. Only there came at intervals the moan, tearless and hopeless. “Shinguakonse!” As the lad lifted his arms from the dead body his whole frame shook with a shudder of terror. “Good shot, my boy! I couldn’t have done better myself.” Then the old man knelt and gathered the Little Pine to his heart. “My dear chap, I understand. You were not content to bring groceries—you wanted to bring her a deer too.” The boy moaned something in his own tongue. “Of course not. Mother wouldn’t understand. She never killed a deer in her life. I’m the chap that understands.” The Little Pine lifted his face from the doctor’s shoulder, but the look of despair was not gone. “I kill your only cow.” “You mean, sir, that you have killed only a cow. You have killed one cow, but I have killed forty boys. The first one I killed was up in a tree. He fell exactly as a squirrel falls, hanging on to the last, and I laughed. Then I got to thinking about it, and laughed no more. I lay on the ground, sick as a dog, and made up my mind I would never have a son.” The boy laid a hand of sympathy on the old man’s arm. “Little Pine, do you remember that your grandmother always called Horatio the Gray Squirrel? And do you remember how he held you by the hands and let you walk up him? And do you remember how your Noko laughed and said that the pine was climbing the squirrel, whereas the squirrel should be climbing the pine?” The boy smiled sadly. “Well, I want you to do something in memory of Horatio.” “Yes, my father.” “Then we will carry Sempronia down to your canoe, and you shall paddle round and meet the Aspen, which is just now coming down to fill the black buoy. I will give you a note to the captain, and he will sell the carcass, and you shall save the money to go to school with.” Tears at last burst from the stoical young eyes. This was his punishment, this gift from the man he had ruined. “I take her to Sault myself,” he sobbed. “There, there, Horatio, stop crying. You seem to have forgotten all your Greek. When Plato said that a boy is the most unmanageable of animals, his best pupil retorted that a boy is more likely to do what is right than what is politic.” “I not Horatio.” The old man brushed his hand across his eyes. “So you aren’t, but it’s all the same. Horatio must have sent you. Comfort comes by comforting, as I told Mahan last night.” “My father, I know Mahan. My brother sent him to me.” “What’s that?” “I was fasting. My Noko told me to fast. A fasting boy may see his guide. I prayed. I heard a noise like the noise of Mugwuh, the Bear. I looked and saw Mahan.” Dr. Rich received this primitive stuff in respectful silence.