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Jean changed the situation by proposing a toast to Billy’s new sister. Off they bounded, side by side, through the fragrant spring evening. The red of the western sky touched to brighter rosiness their glowing cheeks, tinted Jean’s wind-blown hair with gold. As they neared the town she shot ahead in a last ambitious spurt, wheeled and faced him as he came up. “Why doesn’t the Gang come, mamma?” he asked, returning the kiss he knew was one ahead for his natal day..
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“Well, just listen! This morning your mama set out the meat for their breakfast. I had Geewhillikins and Jerusalem Crickets in the pound—the woodshed, you know. Oh, they had a big breakfast before,” she added quickly, feeling rather than seeing Billy’s disapproval. But he was not to be hindered. “It’s only a scratch, mother; you can fuss it up all you want to later; but you mustn’t stop me now!” He pulled away from her and bounded up the path. A mile or two down the creek the searching party sought diligently for the little lost boy. Moses was in the lead. He had announced his adamant resolve to find St. Elmo, or perform the irrevocable feat of “bustin’.” He cherished an idea of his own as to the child’s whereabouts. A few weeks previously, on an all-day excursion, Moses had played pirates with St. Elmo and they had utilized a most delectable earthy cave for their game. When Moses reached the barn he found Mr. Wopp just drawing up his team of heavy-work horses beside a small corral where the hay was to be deposited. On the load beside Mr. Wopp. Moses’ wondering eyes beheld Jethro—Jethro whose greatest joy was to run beside any vehicle and range the country as far as he could on both sides of the trail..
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