id," remarked the boy, dejectedly.

The woman looked at him quickly, almost sharply.

"Do you want to go?" she demanded.

"No, oh, never; but it would save you trouble, and I have no right to
bring that on you," he cried, hastily, and with emotion.

"Then I say you shan't go away, not for a dozen Jim Dilks. You belong
here now. I've done what I said I never would do, given away my Joey's
things, and you're my boy, I say. I won't let you go away! This is your
home as long as you want to stay. Let me catch that Jim Dilks trying to
chase you off, that's all."

Darry could not trust his voice to say one word, only caught up her
work-stained hand and pressed it to his lips, then fled from the house.

And yet as Darry stood out under the old oak that shielded the cottage
from the burning sun in summer, and the biting winds of the "northers"
in winter, looking up at the first bright evening star that peeped into
view, he felt a happiness deep down in his boyish heart that could not
be excelled by a prince of the royal blood coming into his palace home.

He was merry all evening, and the twins romped as they had not done for
many a day, in fact, ever since their brother had left them.

The mother looked on in silent approval, thinking that once more home
seemed to have a brightness about it that had been long lacking.

When all had retired save Darry he sat by the fire thinking.

Somehow he could not forget that skulking figure he had seen leaving the
vicinity of the cabin at dusk, and he would have given much to have
known just what mission brought the vindictive Jim out there.

The bully's home was in the village, and he had no business so far away,
unless bent on an errand that would not bear the light of day.

A sense of responsibility came upon the boy as he sat there.

What if this young wretch should be cruel enough to poison the chickens,
or the three pigs that were expected to help carry the family over the
winter?

The thought gave him a bad feeling, and almost unconsciously he reached
out his hand and picked up the gun that Joe had purchased with money
earned through the sale of roots dug in the woods or furs secured
through clever deadfalls.

There were a few shells in the box, and among others, several containing
very small shot, that might sting pretty lively, but could not do much
damage to a half-grown boy as tough as Jim Dilks.

And it was with that same individual in his mind that Darry pushed