"I see that you have flour,
and oh, yes; you have all that will be needed for a pudding,
and one of my men knows how to make one of the best boiled puddings
you ever ate out under the sky."
Drawing a small horn from one of his side pockets, Mr. Ross blew
a long, shrill blast.
"Jim will come in as soon as possible, after hearing that sound,"
smiled the cattle owner.
Jim Hornby rode in within five minutes. He was a lean, long,
roughened and reddened farm laborer, but when told that a boiled
pudding was wanted he walked straight to the place where the
supplies were kept.
"Everything here but berries," Jim explained. "Any of you boys
know where to get some blueberries?"
Greg knew, and promptly departed with a pail.
Crackle! Crackle! Two brisk fires were now going in the burnt
clearing, started by Dick at Mr. Ross' direction. By this time
Mr. Ross' other helper had come in, reporting that the cattle
were quiet and grazing, and now this helper and his employer began
to remove the hide from one of the cows.
"This cow was overcome by smoke and hot air as soon as it rushed
into the blaze," explained Mr. Ross. "Therefore, this will be
safe meat to eat. When an animal, however, dies in pain, after
much suffering, its flesh should never be used for food.
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