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When the King of the Peacocks' dinner hour arrived, there was nothing for him either in the saucepan or in the larder; his attendants looked askance at one another, and the King was in a terrible rage. "It seems, then, that I am to have no dinner; but see that the spit is put before the fire, and let me have some good roast meat this evening." The evening came, and the Princess said to Fretillon, "Go to the best kitchen in the town and bring me a joint of good roast meat." Fretillon obeyed, and knowing no better kitchen than that of the King, he went softly in, while the cooks' backs were turned, took the meat, which was of the best kind, from the spit, and carried it back in his basket to the Princess. She sent him back without delay to the larder, and he carried off all the preserves and sweetmeats that had been prepared for the King.,

After breakfast Johnny Blossom determined that he must walk twenty-four times back and forth on the veranda railing, the railing representing a rope stretched over Niagara Falls. Johnny walked with greatest care, his arms outstretched and his tongue in his cheek, to help him keep his balance.,

“But that’s not like having someone you belong to!” cried Jerry. “The Boss is all right but he isn’t a family. Why, the first thing I remember is selling papers in the Loop back in Chicago when I was hardly big enough to walk, and getting licked when I got home because I didn’t bring in enough pennies. Home!” the boy’s voice broke on the word. “It wasn’t a home!”,

“Yes, that is best, little John.”

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An oldish looking man wished Johnny to go below with him, and naturally Johnny did not need to be asked twice, even by signs! It was wonderful down there. He had never imagined there could be anything so fine on the dirty coal steamer; and just think! some crackers were brought out, and then if that funny man didn’t set a whole jar of preserves before him, too, and give him a spoon! My, oh, my! Mother ought to see him now, eating with a big spoon right from the preserve jar!,

Once here, the Indian stopped and took an observation. An almost imperceptible grunt escaped him and, turning on his heel, he motioned Bob to follow. It was a surprising move, for the Indian practically retraced the steps they had just taken. Bob was soon to know the reason, however, for halfway down the hill the Indian spoke, not turning his head.,

Finally, the whole company assembled in the great white salon. The children sang some beautiful songs, ending with, “Yes, we love our grand old Norway!” Some one came forward, elbowing his way. It was Jeremias in his tight coat.,

“You must be a tenderfoot,” the other said pityingly. “It’s this way. My father raises cattle. For cattle, you need the range on which they feed and which has been free to all. About all the range there is around here is along the banks of the river. Now this irrigation business comes along and the Government won’t let anybody have more than 160 acres of land. Then my Dad has got to get rid of all his cattle and go to farmin’—which is pretty nigh as disgraceful for a cattleman as sheep-keeping. That is, of course, if he wants to stay around this part of the country.”