maw war sleepin’. Next time I reckon I bettah tell God much obleeged fer twistin’ my hade ‘roun’ ‘stead er cryin’ an’ takin’ on like I been doin’. You reckon so, Doctah Hoyle?”

“Yes — yes — yes. I reckon so,” said the doctor, meditatively, as they descended the trail. From that day the child’s strength increased. Sunny and buoyant, he shook off the thought of his deformity, and his beauty-loving soul ceased introspective brooding and found delight in searching out beauty, and in his creative faculty.