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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. “And there are many times when the duty itself is disagreeable, yet doing it brings a finer joy than shirking it ever could bring.” The last act exhausted the possibilities of the theatre in light effects and sylvan scenery; and the curtain rose on a gorgeous scene. But oh, horror! In the middle of the stage the scene-shifters had left the ugly truck that moved Storm King’s reservoir of ice and snow. When used in previous acts, bed and wheels had been hidden by moss, the tank had been covered by his mantle, and the entire mechanism, moving as he moved, had seemed a part of himself. Now its secret was disclosed and it was ridiculous..

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Yet almost before the prayer was breathed the child with incredible swiftness scudded across the bending board and stood safe by his side! At this moment a wild whoop was heard, and through the open door Moses could be seen dashing out of the corral gate on his cow-pony. “Your mamma said I was to ask no questions, and I shall obey; but I do wish I knew how I could help you.” She touched the bandage that bound his head. “Does it hurt you awfully much, Billy? I’m so sorry. My eyes ache me, too, for looking at you.” “That big sand pile the kids made last week for a fort can be the Sierras, and we’ll tunnel, and have a loop, and—”.