surprises and people do make mistakes." He gestured toward the kitchen again, indicating that the conversation was over. "When you've put those away, you might like to clean out the fireplace," he said.
Will moved to do as he was told. But a few minutes later, as he walked past one of the windows to the large fireplace that took up most of one wall in the living room, he glanced out to see the Ranger tapping the report thoughtfully on his chin, his thoughts obviously a long way away.
Chapter 8
S ometime late in the afternoon, Halt finally ran out of jobs for Will. He looked around the cabin, noting the gleaming kitchen implements, the spotless fireplace, the thoroughly swept floor and totally dust-free rug. A stack of firewood lay beside the fireplace and another stack, cut and split into shorter lengths, filled the wicker basket beside the kitchen stove.
"Hmmm. Not bad," he said. "Not bad at all."
Will felt a surge of pleasure at the sparing praise, but before he could feel too pleased with himself, Halt added, "Can you cook, boy?"
"Cook, sir?" Will asked uncertainly. Halt raised his eyes to some unseen superior being.
"Why do young people invariably answer a question with another question?" he asked. Then, receiving no reply, he continued, "Yes, cook. Prepare food so that one might eat it. Make meals. I assume you do know what food is-what meals are?"
"Ye-es," Will answered, careful to take any questioning inflection out of the word.
"Well, as I told you this morning, this is no grand castle. If we want to eat food here, we have to cook food here," Halt told him.
There was that word we again, Will thought. Every time so far that Halt had said we must, it had seemed to translate to mean you must.
"I can't cook," Will admitted, and Halt clapped his hands and rubbed them together.
"Of course you can't! Most boys can't. So I'll have to show you how. Come on."
He led the way to the kitchen and introduced Will to the mysteries of cooking: peeling and chopping onions, choosing a piece of beef from the meat safe, trimming it and cutting it into neat cubes, then chopping vegetables, searing the beef in a sizzling pan, and finally adding a generous dash of red wine and some of what Halt called his "secret ingredients" The result was a savory-smelling stew, simmering on the top of the stove.
Now, as they waited for the dinner to be ready, they sat on the verandah in the early evening and talked quietly.
"The Rangers were founded over one hundred and fifty years ago, in King Herbert's reign. Do you know anything about him?" Halt looked sideways at the boy sitting beside him, tossing the question out quickly to see his response.
Will hesitated. He vaguely remembered the name from history lessons in the Ward, but he couldn't remember any details. Still, he decided he'd try to bluff his way through it. He didn't want to look too ignorant on his first day with his new master.
"Oh… yes," he said, "King Herbert. We learned about him."
"Really?" said the Ranger expansively. "Perhaps you could tell me a little about him?" He leaned back and crossed his legs, getting himself comfortable. Will cast about desperately in his memory, trying to remember even a shred of detail about King Herbert. He'd done… something, but what?
"He was…" He hesitated, pretending to gather his thoughts. "The king." That much he was sure of, and he glanced at Halt to see if he could stop now. Halt merely smiled and made a rolling gesture with his hand that meant
go on.
"He was the king… a hundred and fifty years ago," Will said, trying to sound certain of his facts. The Ranger smiled at him, gesturing for him to continue yet again.
"Ummm… well, I seem to recall that he was the one who founded the Ranger Corps," he said hopefully, and Halt raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.
"Really? You recall that, do you?" he said, and Will had a horrible
Will moved to do as he was told. But a few minutes later, as he walked past one of the windows to the large fireplace that took up most of one wall in the living room, he glanced out to see the Ranger tapping the report thoughtfully on his chin, his thoughts obviously a long way away.
Chapter 8
S ometime late in the afternoon, Halt finally ran out of jobs for Will. He looked around the cabin, noting the gleaming kitchen implements, the spotless fireplace, the thoroughly swept floor and totally dust-free rug. A stack of firewood lay beside the fireplace and another stack, cut and split into shorter lengths, filled the wicker basket beside the kitchen stove.
"Hmmm. Not bad," he said. "Not bad at all."
Will felt a surge of pleasure at the sparing praise, but before he could feel too pleased with himself, Halt added, "Can you cook, boy?"
"Cook, sir?" Will asked uncertainly. Halt raised his eyes to some unseen superior being.
"Why do young people invariably answer a question with another question?" he asked. Then, receiving no reply, he continued, "Yes, cook. Prepare food so that one might eat it. Make meals. I assume you do know what food is-what meals are?"
"Ye-es," Will answered, careful to take any questioning inflection out of the word.
"Well, as I told you this morning, this is no grand castle. If we want to eat food here, we have to cook food here," Halt told him.
There was that word we again, Will thought. Every time so far that Halt had said we must, it had seemed to translate to mean you must.
"I can't cook," Will admitted, and Halt clapped his hands and rubbed them together.
"Of course you can't! Most boys can't. So I'll have to show you how. Come on."
He led the way to the kitchen and introduced Will to the mysteries of cooking: peeling and chopping onions, choosing a piece of beef from the meat safe, trimming it and cutting it into neat cubes, then chopping vegetables, searing the beef in a sizzling pan, and finally adding a generous dash of red wine and some of what Halt called his "secret ingredients" The result was a savory-smelling stew, simmering on the top of the stove.
Now, as they waited for the dinner to be ready, they sat on the verandah in the early evening and talked quietly.
"The Rangers were founded over one hundred and fifty years ago, in King Herbert's reign. Do you know anything about him?" Halt looked sideways at the boy sitting beside him, tossing the question out quickly to see his response.
Will hesitated. He vaguely remembered the name from history lessons in the Ward, but he couldn't remember any details. Still, he decided he'd try to bluff his way through it. He didn't want to look too ignorant on his first day with his new master.
"Oh… yes," he said, "King Herbert. We learned about him."
"Really?" said the Ranger expansively. "Perhaps you could tell me a little about him?" He leaned back and crossed his legs, getting himself comfortable. Will cast about desperately in his memory, trying to remember even a shred of detail about King Herbert. He'd done… something, but what?
"He was…" He hesitated, pretending to gather his thoughts. "The king." That much he was sure of, and he glanced at Halt to see if he could stop now. Halt merely smiled and made a rolling gesture with his hand that meant
go on.
"He was the king… a hundred and fifty years ago," Will said, trying to sound certain of his facts. The Ranger smiled at him, gesturing for him to continue yet again.
"Ummm… well, I seem to recall that he was the one who founded the Ranger Corps," he said hopefully, and Halt raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.
"Really? You recall that, do you?" he said, and Will had a horrible
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