224 MOOSWA 



Mooswa stuck out his rough tongue, and 

 caressed the wrist. Rod scratched the Bull s 

 forehead in return, and they were friends. 



The big eyes of Mooswa wandered about the 

 bare pathetic interior. It was a poor enough 

 place for a crippled Boy but what could be 

 done. &quot; I wish I could speak to him,&quot; he 

 thought, rubbing his massive face against the 

 flannel shirt reassuringly. Then he turned and 

 walked solemnly through the little clearing, and 

 disappeared in the thick wood. 



The bacon put new heart in Roderick. 



A rational explanation of this advent of the 

 pork appeared to be that it had fallen from the 

 roof; but all through that night of distress 

 The Boy had muttered broken little prayers, just 

 as he had done for years at his mother s knee, 

 and whether it had actually fallen from the roof or 

 from the skies was not the real issue, for he was con 

 vinced that it had come in answer to his prayers. 



The pain crept up his leg, up his back, and, as 

 the hours dragged on, the dreary, lonesome hours, 

 it mounted to his brain, and the queer fancies of 

 approaching delirium carried him to a fairy land 

 peopled by unreal things. He had just sanity 

 enough to keep the chimney fire going, but his 

 little pile of wood dwindled until the last stick 

 was placed on the coals. When in the afternoon 



