mmer days
the boys tramped over the country, peddling their wares, and by night
they conducted sundry unlawful encounters wherever an opponent could
be found.

Sandy enjoyed the peddling. It was astonishing what friendly
sociability and confidential intimacy were established by the sale of
blue suspenders and pink soap. He left a line of smiling testimonials
in his wake.

But if the days were proving satisfactory, so much could not be said
of the nights. Even the phenomenal luck that followed his dog failed
to keep up his enthusiasm.

"You ain't a nachrul sport," complained Ricks. "That's your trouble.
When the last fight was on, you set on the fence and listened at a'
ole idiot scrapin' a fiddle down in the valley."

Sandy made a feeble defense, but he knew in his soul it was so.

Affairs reached a climax one night in an old barn on the outskirts of
a town. A fight was about to begin when Sandy discovered Ricks
judiciously administering a sedative to the enemy's dog.

Then understanding dawned upon him, and his rage was elemental. With a
valor that lacked the better part of discretion, he hurled himself
through the crowd and fell upon Ricks.

An hour later, bruised, bloody, and vanquished, he stumbled along
through the dreary night. Hot with rage and defeat, utterly ignorant
of his whereabouts, his one friend turned foe, he was indeed in sorry
plight.

He climbed over the fence and lay face downward in the long, cool
grass, stretching his bruised and aching body along the ground. A
gentle night wind rustled above him, and by and by a star peeped out,
then another and another. Before he knew it, he was listening to the
frogs and katydids, and wondering what they were talking about. He
ceased to think about Ricks and his woes, and gave himself up to the
delicious, drowsy peace that was all about him. For, child of nature
that he was, he had turned to the only mother he knew.

CHAPTER IV

SIDE-TRACKED

The next morning, at the nearest railroad station, an irate cattleman
was trying to hire some one to take charge of a car of live stock
which was on its way to a great exposition in a neighboring city. The
man he had counted on had not appeared, and the train was about due.

As he was turning away in desperation he felt a tug at his elbow.
Looking around, he saw a queer figure with a countenance that
resembled a first attempt at a charcoal sketch from life: one cheek
was larger than the other, the m