Jim turned to go to the house—then paused. He could see Bill against the hitching-post tearing a straw into wisps that fluttered and fell lifeless to the ground. There was not enough breeze to carry even a strand away. He must speak to Bill, but how could he express anything of the desolation he felt at this parting of their ways. "Bill," he began, in a low voice—and Bill, who divined the words that were about to follow, made no answer; he only held tighter to the post. He could hardly see the boss; a blur swept before his eyes. He made no effort to move; he felt he could not. "Bill," said Jim again, as he came to him, "you must get out and look for another job." Jim clinched his hands tight as he added, "I’ll be sorry to lose you, old man." "I know you will," Bill huskily answered, as he kept his eyes lowered to the ground. Then, almost in a growl, he questioned, "And what are you going to do, boss?" The despair of a broken man’s life answered Bill as Jim said, in a level, flat tone, "Sell out—move on—begin all over again—somewhere." Then with the indomitable will that was ever a part of him, he added, more hopefully, "There must be a place for me somewhere." Mastering himself, he added, as he took Bill’s knotted hand in his, "I won’t offer to pay you, Bill." And Bill, who knew by this fineness of perception on Jim’s part why he loved the boss, answered, "You better not," and wrung Jim’s hand in both of his. "Not now," Jim said, with the old hope again rising to encourage him, that later he might be able to help Bill. "In my life I’ve had one friend and only one." He laid his hands on Bill’s shoulders and looked straight in his eyes. But Bill could not stand the strain of it any longer. "You make me tired," he gulped, and Jim smiled. "Why did you pay those cayotes three or four times what you owe ’em?" Bill scolded, gruffly, but kindly. "It’s wicked, Jim. You’re a sentimental fool." As though bestowing a final benediction, Jim answered, "And you’re another—God bless you," and then dropped on to the log and seemed to forget Bill and all about him. Bill stood a moment, then tiptoed away while Jim sat watching the afternoon shadows beginning to creep up towards the hut. *CHAPTER XX*