It
was clearly a mistake to thrust me into it."

"I don't scarcely see how you could help it," said Billy.

"No, I couldn't, could I? It came upon me suddenly and without my
knowing it. I had no time for preparation. My brother, who was one of
the evils to which, under the will of Providence, I have bowed, called
me to him recently, and without so much as a drop of brandy to break the
force of the blow, he said: 'Cephas,' said he, 'you are the uncle of a
little girl baby!'

"Pale and for a moment speechless, I leaned against the wall and shook
with emotion. 'Courage, old man!' said he, 'bear up! bear up!' At first
I refused to believe him. 'It is false, Orlando,' I said, 'it can't be
so.' But he shook his head sadly. 'It is true, Cephas,' he replied, 'and
I guess I ought to know.' That argument was of course conclusive. It
admitted of no reply. I only asked him how could he so have wronged me.
He said nothing in defense of himself. He could say nothing. He simply
bent his head and cried for pardon."

"Well, well," said Billy, "this is queer. It seems to me like a big
to-do over a very little matter."

Mr. Wrangler looked up with an expression of dismay. "Little!" he cried.
"Little! May I ask, Mr. Warlock, if you have ever been the uncle of a
little girl baby?"

"No," said Billy, "I never was."

"Ah, well, that explains it. Then you can't know the bitterness of that
hour. You can't put yourself in my place. I forgave him. I told him with
a sob that it was all right. Then, in the name of our mother, he
implored me to do him a favor. The infant was in California. He had left
it there to--er--learn the language, I reckon. He bade me go and fetch
it. At first I hesitated--all but refused. But who can withstand an
appeal made in the name of his mother? I pressed his hand in silent
acquiescence and took the next train West. I found the child and folded
it to my heart. I bought it a milk bottle with a fancy nozzle, a bull's
eye, and a rattle. It wept, and I dried its tears. Then I brought it
back with me. Fancy my feelings, Warlock; picture to yourself my
lacerated, bleeding heart, when upon reaching town this afternoon I
learned that my brother was dead! Yes, Warlock, old man, dead and buried
and cold in his grave, and another party living in his flat. It was all
in vain that the tears streamed from my eyes--all in vain that I begged
him at least to take the child. I called him brother, kinsman, royal
Wrangler, and b