mother's future and his own. All the townspeople
were kind to him.

"Haven't forgot how you loaned me those _Harper's Monthlies_ before you
read 'em yourself," said Mr. Inchpin. "Anything I can do for you or your
mother, let me know."

The two had met in Hardwich's store, which was also the post office and
the evening club for the males of High Hill. Jason had dropped in to
post a letter.

A tall scraggly man joined in. "Your father was the best preacher in
Ohio. We was all glad when he got back here."

"He had the gift of prayer," said an old man, in the back of the store.

There was a silence which Jason struggled in vain to break.

Then a young fellow who carried a buggy whip and smoked a cigar said,
"How does the doctoring go, Jason?"

"Well, thanks," returned Jason, looking at the young fellow, intently.
It was Billy Ames, he of the striped pants.

Back through Jason's heart, until now strangely softened by the
happenings of the past few days, surged the accumulated bitterness of
his poverty-stricken youth. He turned abruptly and left the store.

His mother was watching for him, anxiously. "Jason, Pilgrim had an
accident. He's got a frightful cut on his right fore shoulder. He must
have got caught on a nail somehow."

"Let's have a look at him," said Jason.

The big gray was standing stolidly in his stall. Mrs. Wilkins held the
candle while Jason examined him. On the right fore shoulder was a great
three-cornered tear from which the skin hung in a bloody fold.

"I'll have to sew it up." Jason was all surgeon now. "Do you think he'll
stand still for us?"

"Stand still," replied Jason's mother, indignantly. "Why, he'll know
exactly what you are doing, and why."

"All right then. You get me some clean rags and a darning-needle and
I'll get the rest of the things I'll need."

In a few moments the operation was well in hand.

Pilgrim kept his ears back and his eyes on his mistress. He breathed
heavily, but otherwise he did not stir. He was a large horse, with a
small, intelligent head and a mighty chest. Jason's mother held the
candle with one hand while she stroked the big gray's nose with the
other.

"Be careful, Jason, do!" she said softly.

Jason grunted. "You keep him from biting or kicking and I'll do my
share," he said.

"Pilgrim bite!" cried Jason's mother indignantly.

Again Jason grunted, working swiftly, with the skill of trained and
accustomed fingers. The candle flickered on his c