"And what does Her Majesty, the cook, desire?" he asked. "Venison,
perhaps?"
She shook her head with decision. "You will be obliged to go too far,
and be gone too long, to get a deer."
"But you're going with me, of course."
Again she shook her head. "I have something else to do. I can't always
be tagging around after you while you are providing, you know; and we
may as well begin to be civilized again. Just go a little way--not so
far that you can't hear me call--and bring me some nice fat quail like
those we had day before yesterday."
She watched him disappear in the brush and then busied herself about the
camp. Presently she heard the gun, and smiled as she pictured him
hunting for their supper, much as though they were two primitive
children of nature, instead of the two cultured members of a highly
civilized race, that they really were. Then, presently she must go to
the spring for water, that he might have a cool drink when he returned.
She was half way to the spring, singing softly to herself, when a sound
on the low ridge above the camp attracted her attention. Pausing, she
looked and listened. The song died on her lips.
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