Once he saw a flock of big birds a short distance off, feasting on the carcase of a dead beast. He got very excited, and exclaimed: 'Look there, sir! Ain't them eagles?' 'No, no, Jack!' replied Mr. Stuart. 'Those are not eagles; they are buzzards, or prairie scavengers, and are more like vultures than eagles. They are nasty creatures, but so useful in carrying away and devouring all carrion, that the State authorities won't allow them to be shot.' The birds rose slowly in a great cloud as the waggon approached. There were about thirty of them, and they had picked nearly every particle of flesh off the animal's bones, which already looked white. 'The buzzards do their work quickly,' remarked Mr. Stuart. 'That beast had not long died when I passed it this morning.' But after a while Jack got very tired and drowsy, and by the time they reached the door of the ranch-house, he was lying fast asleep at the bottom of the waggon, rolled up in rugs. As the horses stopped at the door, Mrs. Stuart came out to welcome her husband, and the bright blaze of light that streamed from the house looked pleasant in truth to the cold and hungry man after his long drive. 'I'm glad to see you back safely,' said his wife. 'How did you find Pedro and the sheep?' 'In grand form,' he answered; 'and look here, in the waggon! I've got a surprise for you and the children.' Mrs. Stuart looked at the bundle curled up and asked, 'What have you got there, Tom?' 'A little English boy, who'll take your heart by storm when you hear his story. He's quite tired out, so I'll just carry him quietly in and not disturb him.' As he spoke he lifted the sleeping boy in his arms, and carrying him into a nice warm room, laid him on a sofa near a stove, where a fire was crackling merrily. Mrs. Stuart brought a soft blanket, and covered him gently, and as he did not stir, they wisely decided to leave him to finish out his sleep. [Illustration: 'CARRYING HIM INTO A NICE WARM ROOM.'] The tired horses were looked after by one of the ranch hands, and Mr. Stuart sat down to his supper. While he was eating it, he told his wife Jack's story. It at once roused her sympathy, and she said, 'Brave little fellow! What miles he has come, to be sure! We must do all we can to help him on to his people.' 'Yes; but I don't see any chance of his crossing the mountains until next spring,' returned Mr. Stuart. 'It's very late now, and no one is likely to come past here who would go over the divide at this time.' 'That's true,' agreed Mrs. Stuart, 'so we must do our best to make him happy, and keep him here during the winter months.' 'I only hope he'll find his mother alive, if he does get to their ranch,' remarked the Englishman dubiously. 'From what he told me, she must have been very ill when she left Longview, and I should be afraid the shock of his supposed death might have killed her.'