“I g-g-guess you better go ahead and hit the trail, dad.”

“Why, that’s what we’re going to do.  What—­” Big Jim glanced at his boy.  “What’s the matter?”

Little Jim did not answer, but his attitude spoke for itself.  He had decided to stay with Smiler.

Big Jim frowned.  It was the first time that the boy had ever openly rebelled.  And because it was the first time, Big Jim realized its significance.  Yet, such loyalty, even to a dog, was worth while.

Big Jim put his hand on Little Jim’s shoulder.  “Smiler’ll get sore feet on the trails, Jimmy.  And there won’t be a whole lot to eat.”

Little Jim blinked up at his father.  “Well, he can have half of my grub, and I reckon I can pack him on the saddle with me if his feet get tender.”

“All right.  But don’t blame me if Smiler peters out on the trip.”

“Smiler’s tough, he is!” stated Little Jim.  “He’s so tough he bites barb wire.  Anyhow, you said we was goin’ to take it easy.  And he can catch rabbits, I guess.”

“Perhaps he won’t want to come along,” suggested Big Jim as he pulled up a cincha and slipped the end through the ring.

Little Jim beckoned to Smiler who had stood solemnly listening to the controversy about himself as though he understood.  Smiler trotted over to Jimmy.

“You want to take it plumb easy on this trip,” said Little Jim, “and not go to chasin’ around and runnin’ yourself ragged gettin’ nowhere.  If you get sore feet, we’ll just have to beef you and hang your hide on the fence.”

Smiler grinned and wagged his tail.  He pushed up and suddenly licked Little Jim’s face.  Little Jim promptly cuffed him.  Smiler came back for more.

Big Jim turned and watched the boy and the dog in their rough-and-tumble about the yard.  He blinked and turned back to the horses.  “Come on, Jimmy.  We’re all set.”

“Got to throw my pack on ole Lazy, dad.  Gimme a hand, will you?”

Little Jim never would admit that he could not do anything there was to be done.  When he was stuck he simply asked his father to help him.

Big Jim slung up the small pack and drew down the hitch.  Little Jim ducked under Lazy and took the rope on the other side, passing the end to his father.

“Reckon that pack’ll ride all right,” said the boy, surveying the outfit.  “Got the morrals and everything, dad?”

“All set, Jimmy.”

“Then let’s go.  I got my ole twenty-two loaded.  If we run on to one of them stingin’ lizards, he’s sure a sconer.  Does dogs eat lizards?”

Big Jim swung to the saddle and hazed the old pack-horse ahead.  “Don’t know, Jimmy.  Sometimes the Indians eat them.”

“Eat stingin’ lizards?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I guess Smiler can, then.  Come on, ole-timer!”

Suddenly Little Jim thought of his mother.  It seemed that she ought to be with them.  Little Jim had wept when Smiler was in question.  Now he gazed with clear-eyed faith at his father.