that ascended on one side and cascaded over his ear on
the other in a hauntingly familiar way, his violet eyes under their long
lashes and his clear-cut, firm, commanding mouth, that curled into the
bud of a rose as he sobbed and then unfolded into lines of beauty and
strength as he hushed at his mother's comforting, were not like any
other young human that I had ever beheld.

"It hurts. It hurts!" he sobbed.

"Hush, _you_ mustn't cry!" commanded Martha, and there was a little
bitter emphasis on the "you" that cut me, I didn't exactly know why.

And immediately the curled mouth was set in a firm line and the long
lashes winked back tears.

"The beast will not leave go at all," was Jacob's verdict as after a
careful twisting and turning of the ugly turtle he rose to his feet.
"And they do say to kill it lets a venom into the place it is holt of. I
dunno what to do." And in his uncertainty Jacob's eyes sought my face
while at the same instant Martha lifted her wistful eyes to mine. It was
the instinctive turning of the masses to the domination of my class in
the time of need of leadership.

"You git it, lady," suddenly demanded the kiddie, and in his voice and
glance there was none of the deferring to a superior force that I felt
in the others but a decided command of that force. And as he spoke he
stretched out an imperious hand that caught and clung to mine. "Git down
and git it," he again commanded.

"Have you any ammonia, Martha?" I asked, my wits responding gallantly to
the sudden demand upon their biological knowledge.

"I've some in the chist behind the bar. Times I uses it strong on heavy
drunks," responded Jacob and he went quickly into the bar and returned
with the bottle. "It's customers in the grocery and customers at the bar
that I'm keeping waiting fooling along with the brat and the varmint,"
he grumbled.

"I can manage the turtle and you can go and attend to the customers," I
answered, thus assuming calmly the command of the craft of the Last
Chance. Jacob immediately took me at my word and disappeared into the
bar.

"Let's take him and lay him on the bed so we can muffle the turtle in a
towel while we use the ammonia," I said to Martha.

"Yes," answered Martha, "that will be best. Let mother carry you,
sonny!" and Martha bent as if to lift him in her arms.

"I kin hop," the young sufferer announced. "I'm too big to carry, I am,"
he added with proud consideration in his glance at Martha's fra