ter uselessness. With his
crutches, however, he could get about after his fashion; and being
handy with his fingers and versatile of wit, he managed to make a
living well enough at the little odd jobs of mechanical repairing
which the Settlement folk, and the mill hands in particular, brought
to his cabin. His cabin, which was practically a citadel, stood on a
steep cone of rock, upthrust from the bed of the wild little river
which worked the mill. On the summit of a rock a few square rods of
soil gave room for the cabin, half a dozen bushes, and some sandy,
sun-warmed turf. In this retreat, within fifty yards of the busy mill,
but fenced about by the foaming torrent and quite inaccessible except
by the footbridge, MacPhairrson lived with the motley group of
companions which men called his Happy Family.

Happy, no doubt, they were, in spite of the strait confines of their
prison, for MacPhairrson ruled them by the joint forces of authority
and love. He had, moreover, the mystic understanding which is
essential if one would be really intimate with the kindreds we
carelessly call dumb. So it was that he achieved a fair degree of
concord in his Family. All the creatures were amiable towards him,
because they loved him; and because they wholesomely feared him, they
were amiable in the main towards each other. There were certain
members of the Family who might be described as perennial. They were
of the nature of established institutions. Such were Stumpy, the
freak-legged dachshund-setter; James Edward, the wild gander; Butters,
the woodchuck; Melindy and Jim, the two white cats; Bones, the brown
owl, who sat all day on the edge of a box in the darkest corner of the
cabin; and Ananias-and-Sapphira, the green parrot, so named, as
MacPhairrson was wont to explain, because she was so human and he
never could quite make her out. Ebenezer, the pig, was still too young
to be promoted to permanence; but he had already shown such character,
intelligence, and self-respecting individuality that MacPhairrson had
vowed he should never deteriorate into pork. Ebenezer should stay,
even though he should grow so big as to be inconvenient.

But with Susan, the moose calf, and Carrots, the unsociable young fox,
it was different. MacPhairrson realized that when Susan should come to
her full heritage of stature, he would hardly have room for her on the
island. He would then send to the Game Commissioner at Fredericton for
a permit, and sell