"Have you no cows?" inquired the trail foreman.

"We had two, but the funeral expenses took them, and then pa's pension
was stopped. You see--"

"I see," said the trail foreman, dismounting. "Possibly we can help each
other. Our wagon is well provisioned. If you'll shelter and nurse this
wounded man of mine--"

"We can't winter here," said Joel, stepping forward, "and the sooner we
get out and find work the better."

"Oh, I was figuring on paying you wages," countered the trail man, now
aware of their necessity, "and I suppose you could use a quarter
of beef."

"Oh goodness," whispered Dell to his brother; "think, fresh meat."

"And I'll give each of you twenty-five dollars a month--leave the money
with my man or pay you in advance. If you say the word, I'll unload my
wagon right here, and grub-stake you for two months. I can get more
provision at the Republican River, and in the mean time, something
may turn up."

The stranger also dismounted and took part in urging the necessity of
accepting the offer. Dell brightened at every suggestion, but his
brother was tactful, questioning and combating the men, and looking
well to the future. A cold and unfriendly world, coupled with
misfortune, had aged the elder boy beyond his years, while the younger
one was sympathetic, trustful, and dependent.