outh was sadly out of drawing, the
eyes shone out from among the bruises like the sun from behind the
clouds. But if the features were disfigured, the smile was none the
less courageous.

Sandy had found a friendly sympathizer at a neighboring farm-house,
had been given a good breakfast, had made his toilet, and was ready
for the next round in the fight of life.

"I'll be doin' yer job, sir, whatever it is," he said pleasantly.

The man eyed him with misgiving, but his need was urgent.

"All you have to do is to stay in the car and look after the cattle.
My man will meet you when you reach the city. Do you think you can do
it?"

"Just keep company with the cows?" cried Sandy. "Sure and I can!"

So the bargain was struck, and that night found him in the great city
with a dollar in his pocket and a promise of work in the morning.

Tired and sore from the experiences of the night before, he sought a
cheap lodging-house near by. A hook-nosed woman, carrying a smoking
lamp, conducted him to a room under the eaves. It was small and
suffocating. He involuntarily lifted his hands and touched the
ceiling.

"It's like a boilin' potato I feel," he said; "and the pot's so little
and the lid so tight!"

He went to the window, and taking out the nail that held down the
sash, pushed it up. Below him lay the great, bustling city, cabs and
cars in constant motion, long lines of blazing lights marking the
thoroughfares, the thunder of trains in the big station, and above and
below and through it all a dull monotonous roar, like the faraway
unceasing cry of a hungry beast.

He sank on his knees by the window, and a restless, nervous look came
into his eyes.

"It presses in, too," he thought. "It's all crowdin' over me. I'm just
me by myself, all alone." A tear made a white course down his grimy
cheek, then another and another. He brushed them impatiently away with
the cap he still held in his hand.

Rising abruptly, he turned away from the window, and the hot air of
the room again smote him. The smoking lamp had blackened the chimney,
and as he bent to turn it down, he caught his reflection in a small
mirror over the table. What the bruises and swelling had left undone
the cheap mirror completed. He started back. Was that the boy he knew
as himself? Was that Sandy Kilday who had come to America to seek his
fortune? He stared in a sort of fascinated horror at that other boy in
the mirror. Before he had been afraid to be by