“That comes of living out West,” replied Mr. Wharton, smiling.  “You know the miller told us, when we first came, that there was nothing like it for making folks know everything about all natur’.”

They separated to pursue their different avocations, and, being busy, were consequently cheerful,—­except that the mother had some occasional misgivings whether she had acted prudently in consenting that her darling should go beyond sound of the horn.  She began to look out for the boys early in the afternoon; but the hours passed, and still they came not.  The sun had sunk below the horizon, and was sending up regular streaks of gold, like a great glittering crown, when Charley was seen coming alone across the prairie.  A pang like the point of a dagger went through the mother’s heart.  Her first thought was,—­

“Oh, my son! my son! some evil beast has devoured him.”

Charley walked so slowly and wearily that she could not wait for his coming, but went forth to meet him.  As soon as she came within sound of his voice, she called out,—­

“Oh, Charley, where’s Willie?”

The poor boy trembled in every joint, as he threw himself upon her neck and sobbed out,—­

“Oh, mother! mother!”

Her face was very pale, as she asked, in low, hollow tones,—­

“Is he dead?”

“No, mother; but we don’t know where he is.  Oh, mother, do forgive me!” was the despairing answer.

The story was soon told.  The cattle had strayed farther than they supposed, and Willie was very tired before they came in sight of them.  It was not convenient to spare a man to convey him home, and it was agreed that Charley should take him a short distance from their route to a log-cabin, with whose friendly inmates they were well acquainted.  There he was to be left to rest, while his brother returned for a while to help in bringing the cattle together.  The men separated, going in various circuitous directions, agreeing to meet at a specified point, and wait for Charley.  He had a boy’s impatience to be at the place of rendezvous.  When he arrived near the cabin, and had led Willie into the straight path to it, he charged him to go into the house, and not leave it till he came for him; and then he ran back with all speed to Uncle George.  The transaction seemed to him so safe that it did not occur to his honest mind that he had violated the promise given to his mother.  While the sun was yet high in the heavens, his uncle sent him back to the log-cabin for Willie, and sent a man with him to guide them both within sight of home.  Great was their alarm when the inmates of the house told them they had not seen the little boy.  They searched, in hot haste, in every direction.  Diverging from the road to the cabin was a path known as the Indian trail, on which hunters, of various tribes, passed and repassed in their journeys to and from Canada.  The prints of Willie’s shoes were traced some distance