Partners of Chance

he pack-horse, Filaree. When Little Jim asked where his mother had gone, Big Jim told him that she had gone on a visit, and would be away a long time. Little Jim wanted to know if his mother would

h you, dad. I reckon

e gazing out of the cabin window toward town

ne to liv

es

don't you

ant to come

n he had watched his father sitting grimly at table, saying nothing in reply to his wife's querulous complainings. The boy k

told what to do. His mother was gone. He did not know why. But he knew that folks had to eat and sleep and work. While his father prepared supper, Little Jim rolled up his own shirt-sleeves and washed vigorously.

e don't need any more wood, Jimmy.

Leavin'

ther n

to town

Sou

two, al

't you wa

wish ma was

s we can get along all right. How would you

toads and sting

nsters and all ki

ane got any of '

ed a smile.

n than workin' all the time. I guess ma got tired of workin', too. She said that was all she ever ex

either, Jimmy. But yo

. "I guess ma kind of throw

it," said Big Jim slowly. "D

' 's burn

--something that caused Little Jim to hesitate in his questioning. Little Jim idolized his father, and, with unfailing intuition, believed in him to the last word

ething that his mother had said: "He's as much your boy as he is mine, Jim Hastings, and, if you are set on send

t it was chiefly the tone of his mother's voice that had impressed him. For the first time in his young life, Little Jim felt that he was to blame for something which he could not understand. H

o him, than to any one else in the world. Little Jim, trying to reason it out, now thought that he knew why his mother had left home. She had gone to live in town that sh

ng. So, while supper was cooking, Little Jim slipped into his bedroom and busied himself packing his own scant belongings. Presently his father called him.

ession flitted across his face. Litt

d up to hit th

in his alert and manful attitude, Littl

tin'-iron?" querie

s. A man don't pack his shootin'-iron in his bed-

gin' liza

or hoss-thieves, or anything that we kin shoot.

er gazed curiously at him from time to time. Until then, Big Jim had thought of his small son as a chipper, sturdy, willing boy--his

other's absence did not seem to affect the boy much. Little Jim seemed quite philosophical about it. Yet, deep in his heart, Little Jim missed his mother, more

things that his wife had left: a faded pink ribbon, an old pair of high-heeled slippers, a torn and unmended apron, and an ol

t down, Little Jim slipped over to him. "Dad,

leave her things around, after we had gone. Benson'll be

nd beds and

ryth

ings you put in the stove smell just like brandin'

elf, and shook his head. "Just like brandin' a critter," he