1 8 WILD BROTHER 



"Will you excuse me, Mr. Underwood?" the 

 mother asked, as she took the little creature from 

 its bed. "He's real hungry and I have n't fed him 

 since noon," she added. 



As he felt the warm hands of his benefactress 

 about him, there came a comfortable soothing tone 

 in the little creature's complaining, and a few min- 

 utes later his murmuring ceased altogether as, 

 gently moving to and fro in her rocking-chair, the 

 kindly mother, with her back toward me, fed her 

 foster-child. 



The simplicity of it all the crooning baby now 

 in its cradle with one of the little girls rocking it, 

 the other children playing about the primitive log- 

 walled cabin, with its crude but ample home-made 

 furniture impressed me deeply. The room was 

 redolent with the woodsy smell of timber ; the after- 

 noon sun shone through the window and lighted 

 up the rough but clean plank floor. It all seemed 

 so homelike and natural. 



Many questions crowded all at once into my 

 mind; but before I could ask them, there were 

 voices outside, the latch was lifted, and the cook, 

 the woman's husband, came into the cabin. He 

 was a tall stalwart man, with a frank and honest 

 face. After his wife's introduction, he greeted me 

 pleasantly and explained that it would be impos- 

 sible to put all of us up for the night. The men's 



