Big Jim had enough money from the sale of his effects to make the journey by train, even after he had deposited half of the proceeds at the local bank, in his wife’s name.  But being a true son of the open, he wanted to see the country; so he decided to travel horseback, with a pack-animal.  Little Jim, used to the saddle, would find the journey a real adventure.  They would take it easy.  There was no reason for haste.

It had seemed the simplest thing to do, to sell out, leave that part of the country, and forget what had happened.  There was nothing to be gained by staying where they were.  Big Jim had lost his interest in the ranch.  Moreover, there had been some talk of another man, in Laramie, a man who had “kept company” with Jenny Simpson, before she became Mrs. Jim Hastings.  Mrs. Hastings was still young and quite good-looking.

It had seemed a simple thing to do—­to leave and begin life over again in another land.  But Big Jim had forgotten Smiler.  Smiler was a dog of vague ancestry, a rough-coated, yellow dog that belonged solely to Little Jim.  Smiler stuck so closely to Little Jim that their shadows were veritably one.  Smiler was a sort of chuckle-headed, good-natured animal, meek, so long as Little Jim’s prerogatives were not infringed upon, but a cyclone of yellow wrath if Little Jim were approached by any one in other than a friendly spirit.  Even when Big Jim “roughed” his small son, in fun, Smiler grew nervous and bristled, and once, when the mother had smacked Little Jim for some offense or other, Smiler had taken sides to the extent of jumping between the mother and the boy, ready to do instant battle if his young partner were struck again.

“I’m afraid we can’t take Smiler with us,” said Big Jim, as Little Jim scurried about next morning, getting ready for the great adventure.

Little Jim stopped as though he had run against a rope.  He had not even dreamed but that Smiler would go with them.

Now, Little Jim had not forgathered with punchers and townsfolk for nothing.  He was naturally shrewd, and he did not offer or controvert opinions hastily.  He stood holding a bit of old tie-rope in his hand, pondering this last unthinkable development of the situation.  Smiler was to be left behind.  Jimmy wanted to ask why Smiler could not go.  He wanted to assure his father that Smiler would be a help rather than a hindrance to the expedition.

Little Jim knew that if he wept, his father might pay some attention to that sort of plea.  But Little Jim did not intend to weep, nor ask questions, nor argue.  Smiler stood expectantly watching the preparations.  He knew that something important was about to happen, and, with the loyalty of his kind, he was ready to follow, no matter where.  Smiler had sniffed the floor of the empty house, the empty stables, the corral.  His folks were going somewhere.  Well, he was ready.

Little Jim, who had been gazing wistfully at Smiler, suddenly strode to his pack and sat down.  He bit his lips.  Tears welled to his eyes and drifted slowly down his cheeks.  He had not intended to let himself weep—­but there was Smiler, wagging his thick tail, waiting to go.