"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. "It ain't our fault ma ain't goin' with us, is it?" he queried timidly. Big Jim shrugged his shoulders. "Say, dad, we're headed west. Thought you said we was goin' to Arizona?" "We'll turn south, after a while." Little Jim asked no more questions. His father knew everything--why they were going and where. Little Jim glanced back to where Smiler padded along, his tongue out and his eyes already rimmed with dust, for he would insist upon traveling tight to Lazy's heels. Little Jim leaned back. "Stick it out, ole-timer! But don't you go to cuttin' dad's trail till he gets kind of used to seein' you around. Sabe?" Smiler grinned through a dust-begrimed countenance. He wagged his tail. Little Jim plunked his horse in the ribs and drew up beside his father. Little Jim felt big and important riding beside his dad. There had been some kind of trouble at home--and they were leaving it behind. It would be a long trail, and his father sure would need help. Little Jim drew a deep breath. He wanted to express his unwavering loyalty to his father. He wanted to talk of his willingness to go anywhere and share any kind of luck. But his resolve to speak evaporated in a sigh of satisfaction. This was a real holiday, an adventure. "Smiler's makin' it fine, dad." But Big Jim did not seem to hear. He was gazing ahead, where in the distance loomed an approaching figure on horseback. Little Jim knew who it was, and was about to say so when his father checked him with a gesture. Little Jim saw his father shift his belt round so that his gun hung handy. He said nothing and showed by no other sign that he had recognized the approaching rider, who came on swiftly, his high-headed pinto fighting the bit. Within twenty yards of them, the rider reined his horse to a walk. Little Jim saw the two men eye each other closely. The man on the pinto rode past. Little Jim turned to his father.