hed.

A smile slowly played about the brother's lips and eyes. He must show
his trump card.

"But you don't know what I've got for you--"

"What?"

"Something you've always wanted to have for your own--"

"A pony?"

The man slowly rose:

"Come out to the big road--"

The Boy seized his sister's hand:

"Polly, let's see!"

The girl's eyes grew dim:

"Oh, Jeff, I know you're goin'!"

"No--we'll just see what it is--come on!"

In five minutes they emerged from the deep woods into the clearing
around a cabin. Beside the roadway stood a horse and pony, both bridled
and saddled.

The swift feet of the Boy flew across the opening, the sister wide-eyed
and trembling, close on his heels. He threw his arms around the pony's
neck and stroked his head with gentle touch. The pony pressed his mouth
against the Boy's cheek in friendly response.

"Did you see him kiss me, Polly?" he cried tremblingly.

"Yes, I saw him," was the solemn response.

"Isn't he a beauty? Look, Polly--he's got a white spot on every foot and
one in his forehead and black as a coal all over--and Oh--what a
saddle--a red belt and red martingales!"

He touched the saddle lovingly and circled the pony's neck with his
arms.

The brother smiled again:

"Well, what do you think of that?"

The Boy was trembling now from head to foot, his heart in his throat as
he slowly asked:

"You mean that--you'll--give--him--to me--for--all my own?"

"If you'll be a good boy, go to school and work hard--yes."

"All right, Big Brother," was the quick answer, "I'll go. Help me on him
quick, and let me try him!"

The Boy lifted his bare foot into the strong hand, sprang into the
saddle, bounded down the road, wheeled, flew back and leaped to the
ground.

"He's a dandy!"

Polly dropped her head and started home, making a brave fight to keep
back the tears. Half way across the clearing she gave up in a long
pitiful wail.

The Boy, busy with his pony, had not missed her. In a moment he was by
her side, his arms about her neck.

"Don't cry, Polly honey, I'll be back before long," he pleaded.

The only answer was a sob:

"Good-by, Jeff--"

Her hands slowly slipped through his.

"Good-by, Polly--"

He watched her go with quivering lips, and as the little figure slowly
faded into the shadows of the woods he called in broken accents:

"Kiss Mamma for me--and tell her I wanted to go back and say
good-by--but Joe wouldn't let me!"

"Yes, hon