ren't you going to build a fire?"

Again the mother coughed, and a flush of red appeared upon her cheeks.

"No," she answered with a sigh.

"Why not, mamma?"

There was not the slightest trace of irritation in the answering voice,
although it was clearly an effort to speak.

"I can't get up this morning, little one."

Mysteries were multiplying, but the small Benjamin was equal to the
occasion. With a spring he was out of bed, and in another moment was
stepping gingerly upon the cold bare floor.

"I'm going to build a fire for you, mamma," he announced.

The homely mongrel whined a welcome to the little lad's appearance, and
with his tail beat a friendly tattoo upon the kennel floor; but the
woman spoke no word. With impassive face she watched the shivering
little figure as it hurried into its clothes, and then, with celerity
born of experience, went about the making of a fire. Suddenly a hitherto
unthought-of possibility flashed into the boy's mind, and leaving his
work he came back to the bunk.

"Are you sick, mamma?" he asked.

Instantly the woman's face softened.

"Yes, laddie," she answered gently.

Carefully as a nurse, the small protector replaced the cover at his
mother's back, where his exit had left a gap; then returned to his work.

"You must have it warm here," he said.

Not until the fire in the old cylinder makeshift was burning merrily did
he return to his patient; then, standing straight before her, he looked
down with an air of childish dignity that would have been comical had it
been less pathetic.

"Are you very sick, mamma?" he said at last, hesitatingly.

"I am dying, little son." She spoke calmly and impersonally, without
even a quickening of the breath. The thin hand, lying on the tattered
cover, did not stir.

"Mamma!" the old-man face of the boy tightened, as, bending over the
bed, he pressed his warm cheek against hers, now growing cold and white.

At the mouth of the kennel two bright eyes were watching curiously.
Their owner wriggled the tip of his muzzle inquiringly, but the action
brought no response. Then the muzzle went into the air, and a whine,
long-drawn and insistent, broke the silence.

The boy rose. There was not a trace of moisture in his eyes, but the
uncannily aged face seemed older than before. He went over to a peg
where his clothes were hanging and took down the frayed garment that
answered as an overcoat. From the bunk there came another cough, quickly