"Suppose we are delayed in reaching the Solomon until fall," said Dell
to his brother; "that will put us into the settlements in time for
corn-shucking. If you get six-bits a day, I'm surely worth fifty cents."

"Suppose there is no corn to shuck," replied Joel. "Suppose this wounded
man dies on our hands? What then? Haven't you heard pa tell how soldiers
died from slight wounds?--from blood-poisoning? If we have to go, we
might as well go at once."

According to his light, the boy reasoned well. But when the wayfaring
man had most skillfully retold the story of the Good Samaritan, the
older boy relented somewhat, while Dell beamed with enthusiasm at the
opportunity of rendering every assistance.

"It isn't because we don't want to help you," protested Joel, but it's
because we're so poor and have nothing to offer."

"You have health and willing hands," said the trail boss; "let me do the
rest."

"But suppose he doesn't recover as soon as expected," cautiously
protested Joel, "where are we to get further provision?"

"Good suggestion," assented the trail foreman. "But here: I'll leave two
good horses in your care for the wounded man, and all you need to do is
to ride down to the trail, hail any passing herd, and simply tell them
you are harboring a crippled lad, one of Don Lovell's boys, and you can
levy on them for all they have. It's high time you were getting
acquainted with these trail outfits. Shelter this man of mine, and all