squirming on a piece of blanket, and a six-year-old child peered over
Scott's shoulder.

'Hai, you little rip,' said Scott, 'how the deuce do you expect to
get your rations if you aren't quiet?'

A cool white hand steadied the brat, who forthwith choked as the milk
gurgled into his mouth.

'Mornin',' said the milker. 'You've no notion how these little
fellows can wriggle.'

'Oh, yes, I have.' She whispered, because the world was asleep. 'Only
I feed them with a spoon or a rag. Yours are fatter than mine....
And you've been doing this day after day, twice a day?' The voice was
almost lost.

'Yes; it was absurd. Now you try,' he said, giving place to the girl.
'Look out! A goat's not a cow.'

The goat protested against the amateur, and there was a scuffle, in
which Scott snatched up the baby. Then it was all to do over again,
and William laughed softly and merrily. She managed, however, to feed
two babies, and a third.

'Don't the little beggars take it well!' said Scott. 'I trained 'em.'

They were very busy and interested, when, lo! it was broad daylight,
and before they knew, the camp was awake, and they kneeled among the
goats, surprised by the day, both flushed to the temples. Yet all the