'Not he!' returned Steve. 'You're better than a servant to that woman, for she'd never get anyone to work as hard as you, an' she ain't a-goin' to let you leave. I heard a tale from Long Jim Taylor, as worked in the mine with Father, an' it's that as brought me home now. Father was drunk one day, an' let out about a mean trick as he'd played on your folks, an' you, too, for the matter o' that; an' though he denied it afterwards, I'm sure it's true, an' I'll talk my mind to him afore I'm done.' Steve looked so furious, Jack felt almost frightened as he asked timidly, 'What was it, Steve? Tell me what he has done.' 'Well, then, kid, listen!' said the cowboy. 'He never wrote to say Mother was dead, but gave your folks to understand as it was _you_ as was buried; said as how you'd had a bad fall an' died terrible sudden, an' there was no time to get 'em over.' Jack's eyes had grown rounder and larger with horrified surprise as he listened to Steve's story. 'How wicked of him!' he cried. 'But, Steve, I wonder he wasn't afraid o' their hearin' about it.' 'Aye, and so do I,' answered his cousin. 'I believe, however, he has been meanin' to move to some other part o' the country an' take you. Your folks are settled a long way off, an', thinkin' as you're dead, they'll probably never come back here again, so he'd be pretty safe.' 'What shall I do, Steve?' asked Jack piteously. 'I'll ask Uncle Mat about it this very night.' 'Don't make him angry,' returned the cowboy kindly; 'but tell him you have heard what he's done, an' you are bound to go to your folks somehow. I'll tell him what I think when I meet him in the street. I ain't a-goin' near that house with that woman there, so if you want to see me, come here to-morrow evening.' 'I will, Steve. Good-night.' And Jack darted away. Jack felt very brave and determined when he left his cousin, but his courage failed a little as he approached the house. The door was open, and as he drew near he heard his uncle and his wife talking loudly, and caught his own name. 'I'm not such a fool as to let Jack go back to them,' he heard his uncle say, 'in spite o' what Jim Taylor wrote sayin' he'd told Steve, an' the lad was so angry he was comin' over to make things right for Jack. The boy's worth fifty cents a day to us, an'll make more afore long; so the sooner we clear out o' here, an' make for a part o' the country where we ain't known the better. I guess we needn't let Steve into the secret o' our whereabouts, if we can get off afore he comes.' Jack's pulses were beating fast as he listened to this speech. He shook with indignation, and at last, unable to stand it any longer, he rushed into the kitchen, exclaiming: 'Uncle Mat, I heard what you were sayin', an' I must go to my folks. I thought as they'd forgot me, an' now I know they haven't, but you've told 'em a lie.'