Left on the Prairie

was just nine and a half; but he was no longer the same happy little fellow as when we first knew

ts' departure. How poor Jack missed her! His uncle very soon afterward married agai

or meals; and thus Jack, as the youngest, had to bear the brunt of everything. He no longer went to school, for his uncle's wife wanted him to wash floors, carry water, and go endless errands for her. Every morning and evening he had to look for Roanie, the

night he sobbed himself to sleep as he thought s

is people sent for him, as they promised? Was it possible that they

ey had said he should be away from them. Only one year! He remembered it as if it were but yesterday, but not even a message had come for him.

mper. She gave him a little dry bread for supper, and, anxious to get away from her tongue, Jack stole off across the prairie for

ing of spurs, as someone dashed up close to him and stopped abruptly. Jack look

it was you, so I turned off the prairie road to see. What's the

ed, 'I'm so unhappy. I'm glad you've come, for they're so unkind to me, and I'm b

. D'you know,' he went on slowly, 'I've found out as they sent for y

e Mat! Why, he hates me, Steve, an' I gues

ard a tale from Long Jim Taylor, as worked in the mine with Father, an' it's that as brought me home now. Father was drunk one day, an' let out about a mean trick as

t frightened as he asked timidly, 'What

d, but gave your folks to understand as it was you as was buried; said as how you

d larger with horrified surprise

But, Steve, I wonder he wasn't a

some other part o' the country an' take you. Your folks are settled a long way off, an', th

Jack piteously. 'I'll ask Uncl

are bound to go to your folks somehow. I'll tell him what I think when I meet him in the street. I ain'

Good-night.' And

failed a little as he approached the house. The door was open, and as he drew

he was comin' over to make things right for Jack. The boy's worth fifty cents a day to us, an'll make more afore long; so the sooner we clear out o' here, an' m

to stand it any longer, he rushed into the kitchen, exclaiming: 'Uncle Mat, I heard what you were sayin', an'

ce at first when Jack burst in, but it was

o' themsel's, an' it's a mighty bad habit to give way to. Perhaps a to

, please, Uncle Ma

iserable bed, which was in a shed adjoining the house. Through the thin wooden walls he could hear the two Byrnes talking

ecome o' me? If Steve don't save me I don't know what th

im, as he feared, was a great comfort to the lonely little lad, and, thinking hopefu