strange sight. On a bed of straw and paper in one corner lay a withered,
wizened, white-bearded old man, with wide eyes staring at the
unaccustomed sight. In the corner lay a cow.

"It's my old man!" cried Titee, joyfully. "Oh, please, grandpa, I
couldn't get here to-day, it rained all morning, and when I ran away
this evening, I slipped down and broke something, and oh, grandpa, I'm
so tired and hurty, and I'm so afraid you're hungry."

So the secret of Titee's jaunts out the railroad was out. In one of his
trips around the swamp-land, he had discovered the old man dying from
cold and hunger in the fields. Together they had found this cave, and
Titee had gathered the straw and brush that scattered itself over the
ground and made the bed. A poor old cow turned adrift by an ungrateful
master, had crept in and shared the damp dwelling. And thither Titee had
trudged twice a day, carrying his luncheon in the morning, and his
dinner in the evening, the sole support of a half-dead cripple.

"There's a crown in Heaven for that child," said the officer to whom the
case was referred.

And so there was, for we scattered winter roses on his little grave down
in old St. Rocque's cemetery. The cold and rain, and the broken leg had
told their tale.




ANARCHY ALLEY.