Page:St. Nicholas, vol. 40.1 (1912-1913).djvu/410

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

“Pard glanced up intelligently into the face of his companion.”

Kane and Pard

(A tale of Christmas eve)

BY ADDISON HOWARD GIBSON

There we are, Pard,’ observed Kane Osborne, looking regretfully after the receding train that had just left him at the isolated mountain station.

Pard, a bright-eyed, alert Scotch collie, glanced up intelligently into the troubled face of his companion, a slender lad of fifteen.

Kane shivered in the chill December air which swept down from the snow-clad peaks, and his somewhat pale face expressed disappointment as he looked up and down the seemingly deserted station-platform.

“No. one to meet us, Pard,” he said to the tail-wagging collie. “Maybe he don’t want us—he did n’t write that he did, but Uncle Hi was sure he ’d take us in. It ’s Christmas eve, and we ’re all alone, Pard”; and Kane swallowed hard as his hand stroked the dog’s head. A sympathetic whine was Pard’s response.

“Looking for some one, son?” asked the station-agent, coming forward.

“Yes,” answered Kane, rather bashfully; “we ‘re looking for Mr. Jim Moreley.”

“Relation of his going up to the ranch to spend Christmas?”

“No-o-o. Is his ranch near here?”

“About ten miles up Rainbow Cañon,” informed the agent, eying the boy. “Moreley has n't been down to-day. Going up for a vacation?”

“To live there, if he ‘ll keep us,” replied Kane.

“Have n't you any other place to go but to Moreley’s ranch?” inquired the agent.

“No place. My folks are all dead, and Uncle Hi died, too, about five days ago,” explained Kane, trying bravely to keep the tears back. “There ’s just Pard and me left. A lady offered me a home, but she would n’t let Pard stay. Uncle Hi used to know Mr. Moreley over at Green Buttes, before he came here, so he got the doctor to write that he was sending Pard and me up to the ranch.”

“If you go to live with old Moreley, he ‘ll work you to death,” declared the man. “He ’s changed since he lived at Green Buttes. He ’s drinking, these days, and he ’s hard on his help. He has n’t any use for any one who ’s not strong,” scanning Kane’s thin arms and legs in his worn suit.

“Oh, I ’ll be all right when I get to knocking about the mountains,” Kane hastened to assure the agent, resenting the suggestion of physical

264