already forgotten the game. Probably she had, and--well, a good many
other things that he remembered quite distinctly.

Later, when they had reached town, were warmed and fed and when even
Billy was thinking seriously of sleep, Dill came over and sat down
beside him solemnly, folded his bony hands upon knees quite as bony,
regarded pensively the generously formed foot dangling some distance
before him and smiled his puckered smile.

"I have been wondering, William, if you had not some plan of your own
concerning this cattle-raising business, which you think is better
than mine but which you hesitate to express. If you have, I hope you
will feel quite free to--er--lay it before the head of the firm. It
may interest you to know that I have, as you would put it, 'failed to
connect' with Mr. Robinson. So, if you have any ideas--"

"Oh, I'm burning up with 'em," Charming Billy retorted in a way he
meant to be sarcastic, but which Mr. Dill took quite seriously.

"Then I hope you won't hesitate--"

"Now look here, Dilly," expostulated he, between puffs. "Recollect,
it's _your_ money that's going to feed the birds--and it's your
privilege to throw it out to suit yourself. Uh course, I might
day-dream about the way I'd start into the cow-business if I was a
millionaire--"

"I'm not a millionaire," Mr. Dill hastened to correct. "A couple of
hundred thousand or so, is about all--"