Duncan, the big foreman, some weeks later, as he paddled across
the river with the boy's father.

"Oh, he likes Andy," replied Mr. Moran, "and he likes the old horse,
and he likes the work, too. He feels important every time he lights
that lantern to steer the mill hands off danger.

"Speaking of the horse," went on the big foreman, "they're short one up
at the lumber camp. The boss sent down yesterday that we had to get him
an extra horse by hook or crook. They've started hauling logs. It would
be a great thing if Andy could sell that nag at a good figure. It would
help him out. He's hard up for cash, I bet. I'll speak to him to-night
about it."

At supper Tom Moran mentioned what a fine thing it was for Andy that
there was an urgent demand for a horse at the lumber camp; that he could
get twice the money for old Grey that the animal was worth. Mrs. Moran
agreed that it would be a great help to old Andy, but Jacky's small face
went white, he ceased his boyish chatter, and his little throat refused
to swallow a mouthful of food.

As soon as he could, he escaped, slipped outside, and made for Andy's
shanty as fast as his young legs could carry him. With small ceremony
he flung open the door, to find the old Frenchman sitting in his barrel
chair, a single tallow candle on the shelf above his head, his ever
present pipe between his lips, and his lame leg stuck up on a bench
before the tumbledown stove, where a good spruce fire crackled and
burned. For the first time the extreme poverty of the place struck
Jacky's senses. He realized instantly, but for the first time, how much
in need of money the poor old cripple must be, but, nevertheless, his
voice shook as he exclaimed, "Oh, Andy, you won't sell old Grey? Oh,
you won't, will you?"

"Why not, youngster?" asked a deep voice from the gloom beyond the
stove, and Jacky saw with a start that Alick Duncan was already there
with his offer to buy.

"Because," began the boy, "because--well, because he helps us, Andy and
me; he helps us light up at night." It was a lame excuse, and poor Jacky
knew it.

"It appears to me Andy ain't doing much lighting up these days," went on
the foreman. "And you know, kid, Andy's old and sick, and money don't
come easy to him. If he gets one square meal of pork and beans a day,
he's getting more than I think he does. The horse is no use to him now.
He can't even pay for its keep when next winter comes. He can't use it,
anyhow, and Andy n