A deep sigh was his answer. I continued for half an hour to encourage
and jolly him, telling him that dreams always went by the contrary, and
my efforts were rewarded by his growing calm and promising he would
fight tooth and nail against the thought, and we finally dropped off to
sleep.
"Show a leg, Grant, show a leg, cookhouse up," was yelled at me as
daylight broke, and up we tumbled. I was much relieved that Billy was
looking and acting as if nothing whatever disturbed him, except the
possibility of being a second behind anybody else in getting to the
cookhouse.
Although we were bosom friends and companions, there was just a shade of
the big-brother idea on my part of the fellowship, and I kept track of
him whenever and wherever I could. This was not alone because of the
congenial soul that was within him, but, also, because I had learned
through him to know his mother. And such a mother! It is a forward
impetus on life's journey to know such a woman, and I knew instinctively
she would expect me to keep an eye on him.
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