d very quietly: "I
can't even say 'Thank you,' as I want to; I guess the best way to thank
a pard is to live it, not speak it. I ain't said a prayer for years till
the day you came here, and I've prayed night and day, _real_ prayers,
that you wouldn't get this disease. Maybe that'll show you, pard, that
I've started to be a new man."

"Yes, that shows," answered Con confidentially, and with another
handclasp, he left for his little tent, with a great faith in his heart
that the sick man's prayers would be answered.

At last one joyous day the doctor sent for Banty, who rode over with a
led horse, and Con, leaping into the saddle, waved good-bye to Snooks,
who, now convalescent, stood in the door of the distant shack. As the
boy galloped off up the trail, Snooks turned to the nurse and said:

"I'm going to live so that youngster will never regret what he's done.
That's about the only reward I can give him."

The nurse looked up gravely. "If I have estimated that boy right," she
said, "I think that's about the only reward he would care to have."

That was a great night at the ranch. Most delicious things to eat and
drink awaited Con after his long isolation, and Mr. and Mrs. Clark
welcomed him as if he had been a son instead of a nephew. The range
riders came in, each one getting him to tell of his antics with the
sulphur and shovel of coals, over which they roared with laughter.
Banty's delight at having his comrade back from danger knew no bounds,
and when The Eena appeared Banty flung an arm about Con's shoulders,
exclaiming: "Isn't this old chap a splendid King Georgeman, Eena?"

The old hunter replied with much self-satisfaction: "Maybe now you not
think old Indian saying so queer. Did I not say, me, that narrow,
thin--what you name it,--nostril, shows man that is brave, man that has
no fear? Me sabe now. He _not_ 'bally.'"

Gun-Shy Billy

"No, sir! Not for me," Bert Hooper was saying. "I won't join the crowd
if Billy is going. Do you fellows suppose I'm going to have my holiday
all spoiled, and not get any game, all because you want Billy? _He's_
no good on a hunting trip. I tell you he's gun-shy."

"That's so," said another boy. "I've seen him stop his ears with his
fingers when Bert shot his gun off--more than once, too."

"Ought to be named 'Gussie,'" said Bert. "A great big fellow like Billy,
_scared of a gun_! He must be sixteen, and large for his age at that.
He's worse than that dog I had las