committed
Kalman with many and anxious injunctions, and it is Macmillan's
due to say that every moment of that four weeks' journey was
one of undiluted delight to the boy, although it is to be feared
that not the least enjoyable moments in that eventful journey were
those when he stood lost in admiration while his host, with the free
use of his sulphurously psychological lever, pried his team out of
the frequent sleughs that harassed the trail. And before Macmillan
had delivered up his charge, his pork and hard tack, aided by the
ardent suns and sweeping winds of the prairie, had done their work,
so that it was a brown and thoroughly hardy looking lad that was
handed over to Jimmy Green at the Crossing.

"Here is Jack French's boy," said Macmillan. "And it's him that's
got the ear for music. In another trip he'll dust them horses out
of a hole with any of us. Swear! Well, I should smile! By the
powers! he makes me feel queer."

"Swear," echoed a thick voice from behind the speaker, "who's swearing?"

"Hello! Jack," said Macmillan quietly. "Got a jag on, eh?"

"Attend to your own business, sir," said Jack French, whose
dignity grew and whose temper shortened with every bottle.
"Answer my question, sir. Who is swearing?"

"Oh, there's nothing to it, Jack," said Macmillan. "I was telling
Jimmy here that that's a mighty smart boy of yours, and with a
great tongue for language."

"I'll break his back," growled Jack French, his face distorted with
a scowl. "Look here, boy," he continued, whirling fiercely upon the
lad, "you are sent to me by the best woman on earth to make a man
of you, and I'll have no swearing on my ranch," delivering himself
of which sentiment punctuated by a _feu de joie_ of muddled oaths,
he lurched away into the back shop and fell into a drunken sleep,
leaving the boy astonished and for some minutes speechless.

"Is that her brother?" he asked at length, when he had found voice.

"Whose brother?" said Jimmy Green.

"Yes, boy, that's her brother," said Macmillan. "But that is not
himself any more than a mad dog. Jimmy here has been filling him
up," shaking his finger at the culprit, "which he had no right to
do, knowing Jack French as he does, by the same token."

"Oh, come on, Mac," said Jimmy apologetically. "You know Jack
French, and when he gets a-goin' could I stop him? No, nor you."

Next morning when Kalman came forth from the loft which served
Jimmy Green as store room for his marv