longed to show this woman that though his clothes and shoes were rough, he
was almost a man and could do great things.

"What is your name, my boy?"

The words startled him, and he glanced quickly up. The woman was looking
at him still, but now she was smiling. Was she laughing at him?

"My name's Dan," was the reply.

"Dan, Dan what?"

"Oh, just old Jim's boy."

"Old Jim, Old Jim!" repeated the woman. "Do you mean Jim Flitter, the
trapper?"

"Yep, that's him."

"And do you live over there?"

"Yep. In that shanty up the valley, Dad and I live there alone."

"Have you no mother, Dan?" and the woman's voice was soft and low.

"None now."

She was about to question further, but noticing the look upon the boy's
face she desisted.