of sleep and his first
encounter with grief, nestling close to old Tige slumber came and held
him until late the next day. His father and Mirandy paid little
attention to what he did, so night after night he took his blanket and
dog and slept in the woods, the two only going to the cabin for
meals.

During all these strange, restless days the words of Steve's mother
came to him over and over: "Remember you air goin' whar you kin larn
to make things lack that watch." And he thought, "How am I a-goin'
lessen I jes' go?" He knew his father would never give him permission,
it was not worth while to ask it, so gradually his plans took shape in
the solitude of the woods with no one to counsel. Had the boy known
what distance lay between him and his goal he would have grown
faint-hearted, but he had no conception of what his undertaking meant.
So he laid his plans with good courage, which plans, of course,
included the taking of his dog. For three or four days Steve took an
extra share of corn pone and bacon, Mirandy not noticing in her
shiftless manner of providing, and feeling the loss of her mother, she
was even more listless than usual. These extra rations for himself and
Tige Steve carried to the woods and laid away. Then his beloved fox
skin, the greatest treasure which he possessed beside the watch, he
must take that with him, because it was "the man's"; he had promised
it in return for the watch, and now that he was going he must take it
along to give to the man. The boy had no thought of any difficulty in
such a search. The food, the skin, the watch, and the scanty clothes
he wore constituted all his equipment for the journey. When he started
out with the skin Mirandy lazily asked what he was going to do with
it, and he replied: "Use it fer a piller in the woods."

"Ye better quit sleepin' out thar," she said; "somethin' 'll eat ye up
some night."

"I ain't a-feerd," he said, and she thought no more about it.

Three days passed with a good accumulation of food, and as Steve and
Tige lay down to sleep at night the boy said:

"Tige, we've gotter be a-goin' 'bout day arter ter-morrer," and the
dog wagged sleepy assent. But next morning when Steve wakened a
peculiar stillness smote him. Tige was usually alert at his least
move. With intuitive alarm Steve put out his hand,--and touched a
rigid body! Drawing back he sprang to his feet, a cry of anguished
appeal on his lips:

"O Tige, Tige, ye ain't dead too?"

Bu