on the way, trotted off
on his errand.

Jem's Father was a small farmer, who had built his own log cabin and
cleared his own fields, with no other assistance than that of his little
son; this was, however, by no means small, for frontier boys are, of
necessity, brought up to be helpful, hardy, and self-denying. Jem
therefore felt his life of incessant labour and deprivation no hardship:
he was as happy and merry as the day was long. But the misfortune that
had now fallen upon the brave little man was so severe and unexpected,
he did not know how to bear it. The thought of the dear, suffering
Mother waiting patiently for the medicine which would relieve her, and
of the anxious, careworn Father, who would look so vainly along the
forest track for his return, was too much for his affectionate little
heart; so, leaning his arms against a tree, he dropped his head upon
them and sobbed bitterly. Then, struggling up, he made another attempt
to walk, for he knew he had accomplished more than half the journey, but
the injured foot would not support him, and the attempt to stand caused
him the sharpest agony.

"It is of no use--I _cannot_ stand," groaned Jem half-aloud, as,
resolving to make the best of circumstances, he sat down, settled his
back against a tree, and munched up his hunch of bread. Then he said
his prayers, with the addition of a special one that God would make his
dear Mother better without the medicine, and prepared to wait with what
patience he might till morning, when he knew that some fur traders or
hunters would surely be passing along the track, who would give him the
assistance he needed. One thing Jem was determined about: he would not
go to sleep. He set himself to count the stars which peeped through the
leaves above his head, and listened to the occasional stir of birds and
squirrels in their nests.

He knew and loved them all, and they on their parts knew that Jem never
stole birds' eggs or merry baby squirrels, as the other boys did.

"It is only Jem," they would say when they saw him coming, and they
never thought of hiding from him.

But somehow Jem did not get very far in his counting of the stars--they
danced about too much, his head _would_ drop down, and his eyes would
_not_ keep open. It is not easy for a tired little boy of eleven years
old to keep awake at night, and so in a very few minutes Jem was fast
asleep.

It seemed to him that he had scarcely closed his eyes when a sli