hot hands.

"I ain't afraid of that dog," scoffed Billy, as he was again placed on
the walk, "but onc't he took me for a rat or somepin' and his teeth cut
into my back. If I'd a done right, I'd a took the law on him."

Sinton looked down into the indignant little face. The child was bright
enough, he had a good head, but oh, such a body!

"I 'bout got enough of dogs," said Billy. "I used to like 'em, but I'm
getting pretty tired. You ought to seen the lickin' Jimmy and Belle and
me give our dog when we caught him, for taking a little bird she gave
us. We waited 'till he was asleep 'nen laid a board on him and all of
us jumped on it to onc't. You could a heard him yell a mile. Belle said
mebbe we could squeeze the bird out of him. But, squeeze nothing! He was
holler as us, and that bird was lost long 'fore it got to his stummick.
It was ist a little one, anyway. Belle said it wouldn't 'a' made a
bite apiece for three of us nohow, and the dog got one good swaller. We
didn't get much of the meat, either. Pa took most of that. Seems like
pas and dogs gets everything."

Billy laughed dolefully. Involuntarily Wesley Sinton reached his hand.
They were coming into the business part of Onabasha and the streets were
crowded. Billy understood it to mean that he might lose his companion
and took a grip. That little hot hand clinging tight to his, the sore
feet recklessly scouring the walk, the hungry child panting for breath
as he tried to keep even, the brave soul jesting in the face of hard
luck, caught Sinton in a tender, empty spot.

"Say, son," he said. "How would you like to be washed clean, and have