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“But you haven’t told us what hurries you so,” Jean called, while Billy was already sprinting away.,“Why have you been away out in the country for milk?”,She was a queer draggled little creature, with her soaked and tattered dress, and her yellow curls all stringlets. Timidly she touched Jimmy’s blistered hands, realized what he had saved her from, and when she looked her gratitude into his dark eyes something awoke in his heart that never slept again.,Moses’ intuition regarding St. Elmo’s retreat proved to be correct, and it was a sadly dejected countenance on which he gazed when he looked into the cave. Tears, dirt, and the juice of Saskatoon berries mingled on the fair sleeping face of the child, until he seemed to be the very Cree Indian he had so often personated in his play. His long curls were tangled and matted with small twigs. His diminutive brown velvet coat displayed a large rent in the elbow through which oozed a pathetic-looking suppuration of pink and white checked shirt.,“Billy! You’re freezing!” She sprang up and turned on the light.,Everything at the dinner table was in keeping to Betty’s eyes, from the translucent china cups to the dainty blown bubbles of confection served with ice-cream; all so fragile that even one of her small brown fingers might crush them. She laughed as she thought of the annihilating effect, should Moses appear. The ices and the angel cake and the concocted kisses of whiteof-egg confirmed in her mind the suspicion that her wonderful holiday was a dream. “So your name is Betty Wopp?”,“All over the house does she put them?” the child asked after she had snipped a fragrant heap.,“My feet’s purty well jolted up inter my head,” cried the uncomfortable rider. But Betty insisted on his getting full value for his money, and dared him to descend until the round of the arena had been completed.,“No, no, the Fo’castle! I—Here they come!” Billy set down some cups with dangerous haste and ran out.,The Sheriff smiled at the note of command in the boy’s incoherence. “Not on your life, sonny,” and his voice softened; “we’ve got to have you in our business. Help him along,” he said to one of the deputies, as they came a moment later to where the path broadened; while he walked behind covering the panting prisoners.,St. Elmo’s face brightened with intelligence. He broke into the story to give a graphic account of how a little yellow chicken of his sister’s had got “dwownded” in the pig-trough.,“Where you’ll be safe till I let your father know I’ve got you.”.