“We had two, but the funeral expenses took them, and then pa’s pension was stopped.  You see—­”

“I see,” said the trail foreman, dismounting.  “Possibly we can help each other.  Our wagon is well provisioned.  If you’ll shelter and nurse this wounded man of mine—­”

“We can’t winter here,” said Joel, stepping forward, “and the sooner we get out and find work the better.”

“Oh, I was figuring on paying you wages,” countered the trail man, now aware of their necessity, “and I suppose you could use a quarter of beef.”

“Oh goodness,” whispered Dell to his brother; “think, fresh meat.”

“And I’ll give each of you twenty-five dollars a month—­leave the money with my man or pay you in advance.  If you say the word, I’ll unload my wagon right here, and grub-stake you for two months.  I can get more provision at the Republican River, and in the mean time, something may turn up.”

The stranger also dismounted and took part in urging the necessity of accepting the offer.  Dell brightened at every suggestion, but his brother was tactful, questioning and combating the men, and looking well to the future.  A cold and unfriendly world, coupled with misfortune, had aged the elder boy beyond his years, while the younger one was sympathetic, trustful, and dependent.

“Suppose we are delayed in reaching the Solomon until fall,” said Dell to his brother; “that will put us into the settlements in time for corn-shucking.  If you get six-bits a day, I’m surely worth fifty cents.”

“Suppose there is no corn to shuck,” replied Joel.  “Suppose this wounded man dies on our hands?  What then?  Haven’t you heard pa tell how soldiers died from slight wounds?—­from blood-poisoning?  If we have to go, we might as well go at once.”

According to his light, the boy reasoned well.  But when the wayfaring man had most skillfully retold the story of the Good Samaritan, the older boy relented somewhat, while Dell beamed with enthusiasm at the opportunity of rendering every assistance.

“It isn’t because we don’t want to help you,” protested Joel, but it’s because we’re so poor and have nothing to offer.”

“You have health and willing hands,” said the trail boss; “let me do the rest.”

“But suppose he doesn’t recover as soon as expected,” cautiously protested Joel, “where are we to get further provision?”

“Good suggestion,” assented the trail foreman.  “But here:  I’ll leave two good horses in your care for the wounded man, and all you need to do is to ride down to the trail, hail any passing herd, and simply tell them you are harboring a crippled lad, one of Don Lovell’s boys, and you can levy on them for all they have.  It’s high time you were getting acquainted with these trail outfits.  Shelter this man of mine, and all will come out well in the end.  Besides, I’ll tell old man Don about you boys, and he might take you home to his ranch with him.  He has no boys, and he might take a fancy to you two.”