or six houses sprawled out across the little plateau toward which the
road twisted. Some geese flew up under the feet of the horses, squawking
wildly, some "razor-back" hogs grunted from the dust-wallows, some
cow-bells tinkled, some small yellow spheres of light shone through
windows.

"How far from Poetical, Piney?" shouted Steering.

"'Baout a foot," answered Piney. He made his lightning-like pony go more
slowly so that Bruce's horse might come alongside, and he shook his
head, his ready sympathy again on his face. "Say, it's goin' to be
kinder tough on you to stay here to-night, aint it? This is ev' spittin'
bit there is tew Poetical. Here's the _ho_tel."

They drew rein before a rickety two-story frame building and Bruce
lifted his shoulders shudderingly. A man came out on the hotel porch,
said "Howdy," and waited.

"Say,"--Piney in a lower tone, voiced a notion that evidently drifted in
to him on the high tide of his sympathy,--"why don't you ride over to
Mist' Crit Madeira's? Taint so far. I'll show you the way. They cand
take care of you over tha'. They'd be glad to have you. You cand caount
on that. It's that-a-way in Mizzourah." The boy's conscientious
earnestness was sweet. He was in good spirits again and he whisked one
roughly-booted foot out of its stirrup and laid it across his
saddle-horn, while he regarded Bruce. "You cand git ter see Miss Sally
ef you do that," he added, pursing up his lips, a subtle sense of humour
on his face. "You cand see what Mizzourah girls are like."

"Now come, Piney, you know I've been thinking everything beautiful about
Miss Sally since I found out--something----"

"Aw! Tisn't no such thing. She jes likes to hear me sing. _You're
crazy!_" The tramp-boy's young voice had its fashion of breaking and
shrilling into a high soprano, like a girl's, for emphasis; he was as
red as a beet, and he put his foot back in the stirrup, thrust out his
under jaw and looked at the stirrup as though he had to determine how
much wood had gone into its making. Again Bruce was conscious of a
little ache for the boy. "But you go on over tha'," insisted Piney.

"No! Thank you for trying to look out for me, son, but I shouldn't like
to do that. Oh, I can stand this all right," cried Bruce, with a flare
of big bravery and, turning to face the hotel, was seized by his
loneliness so violently that he shuddered again. "Here Piney!" he cried
on a sudden inspiration, "why won't you come in and sta