Then Jase, boy, and mule, whipped round a crook of the road and were
seen no more.

Ralph's first impulse was to throw the bill away. But sober second
thoughts prevailed, and somewhat reluctantly he placed it with the rest
of his slender stock of cash.

"Jase means well," thought he, resuming his tramp. "I don't know that
either of us are to blame 'cause our families have been at outs for so
long. When I get to making something I'll send it back."

All that day Ralph trudged manfully on. At times grief would be
uppermost in his heart when he thought of the way in which his
grandfather had treated him.

Once, as he passed a cabin where a boy of about his own age stood
washing his hands on the porch, and he caught a glimpse of a cheerful
interior, with dinner smoking on the table, he felt very homesick. He
wished he was back, preparing his grandpa's noonday meal.

As he did not feel hungry he did not stop anywhere until about sunset,
when he walked up to a double penned house that looked roomy and
hospitable. Several dogs ran out barking.

"Here, you Boss! Git out'n thar, Louder! Pick up a stick and frail
the nation outn 'em, boy."

A tall, shock headed, awkward man had come onto the porch and was
making these remarks with great vigor but entire good nature. The dogs
subsided, and Ralph ran lightly up the steps.