Again there was silence for so long that the waiting dog, impatient of
the delay, whined in soft protest.

"Why not, mamma?"

"Because, Benjamin, it's too late now. Besides, there wouldn't be a
person there who would come out to help me."

The boy's look of perplexity returned.

"Not if they knew you were very sick, mamma?"

"Not if they knew I was dying, my son."

The boy took off hat, mittens, and coat, and returned them to their
places. Never in his short life had he questioned a statement of his
mother's, and such heresy did not occur to him now. Coming back to the
bunk, he laid his cheek caressingly beside hers.

"Is there anything I can do for you, mamma?" he whispered.

"Nothing but what you are doing now, laddie."

Tired of standing, the mongrel dropped within his tracks flat upon his
belly, and, his head resting upon his fore-paws, lay watching intently.

* * * * *

When the door of Mick Kennedy's saloon closed with an emphasis that
shook the very walls, it shut out a being more ferocious, more evil,