spent more pains upon him.' There is nothing for me to do but take off my cap as in the gypsy song, and bow more humbly. So far, but two persons have thoroughly understood Bazaroff, understood my intentions; that is, namely, Dostajewsky and Botkin. I shall take care that a copy of my novel comes to you; and now, basta!

"I shall not pass through Heidelberg, or I should have taken a look at the young Rus

sians there. Greet them for me, though they do regard me as one of the laggards. Say to them that I beg them to wait a little before delivering final judgment. You may communicate this letter to whom you please. I take your hand warmly, and wish you everything good. Work, work, and do not make haste to be through with it. "Yours very truly,

"IVAN TOURGUENIEFF." Florence Kelley Wischnewetsky.

Dinner being despatched, the last loiterer was springing to the saddle, when a boy of about sixteen, mounted on a weary looking white pony, rode up to the group.

"The Lord save us !" growled a tall fellow to his neighbor. "Ef thar aint Jimmy Rowell, always late and never left. I'll beblessed, ef I wouldn't like to give the little rooster a shakin' jest fer his impidence."

the season.

The desolate station bustled that day with unusual activity. Ponies were fastened, singly or in groups, at the different hitchingplaces. Men were saddling them, loosening straps, adjusting buckles, ordering, criticising, chaffing one another, in the reckless fashion of the West, where they joke over everything, from a murder up to an Indian raid. That the present excitement, however, had a slighter cause, might be inferred from the crowd's unchecked and extravagant mirth.

They were to have started at sunrise, and, of course, were nearly ready by noon. Hav ing waited so long, the party moved an adjournment for dinner. The proposition finding favor, sundry fires were kindled, and the air made fragrant with steams from boiling coffee and frying pork. Talk flew back and forth, as the rough cooks moved about. The keen wit of the frontier is keenest at meal

"Don't tell him so," returned the other, laughing shortly. "Let's ride on, Jake." "Not much!" said Jake, facing the new comer with a scowl, meant to be impressive.

Long Jake's scowl was calculated to make an impression. He was a lean, dark-browed fellow, with a skin hard and brown as leather, deep set, keen black eyes, and a straggling black beard. One cheek was strangely deformed by a long, repulsive scar, which perhaps gave rise to the common report that he had once been a guerilla. He had not been long in that district, and, though expert in the arts of the cattle camp, was not a general favorite.

To Jim Rowell he had taken a positive dislike, as cordially returned. The two seldom met without a wordy skirmish, in which the elder was often worsted, to the great delight of his comrades. Jim, with his daring spirit, his bold, ready replies, and uncommon 'smartness," was a kind of pet among them a position not always tending to further his best interests.

"Well, Jim," announced Jake, solemnly,

"Ef I'd a boy with no more sense than you've got, I'd kill him while he was easy to kill, that's all. What's up now?"

"Nothing," retorted the boy, quietly peeling his willow switch, "except that they're going to hang you in the morning."

A burst of laughter greeted this speech, and the herder, turning his horse's head, rode off at full speed, Jimmy and his friends following suit.

"What brought you up in such a hurry, young man?" asked the stout, jolly Al Thompson. "Did you hear where we were going ?"

"No!" answered Jimmy, rather gloomily. "A little girl's been lost down our way, and they're hunting for her everywhere. I thought somebody round here might have seen her. Where are all you fellows going anyhow? Far ?"

"Well, I should rather jedge so. know old Abe?"

"That big brindle steer no one can catch?" "The same. Tom Jenkins calls him his'n, but I b'lieve he was with Injuns afore he come on this range. It don't matter. He might as well b'long to the devil, for no fence kin stan' agin him. Well, we're all agoin' to hunt him down, and you bet we'll have some fun."

"I wish I could go," sighed Jimmy.

"Come right along, then," was the man's invitation, turning his bearded face full on the hesitating listener. "This is the very best chance to find the little girl, and your folks needn't know nothing more. We'll share grub, and you kin help us along. Come on."

"I don't know-yes, I will," pronounced Jimmy, rapidly changing the uncertain for the resolute tone, as he started up his reluctant pony.

"I tell you what it is, Jem," said a little Irishman, in confidence. "Financially, that's the worst little horse I ever see."

"She'll go like thunder when she gets started," protested the boy, much hurt. It was by no means a pony to brag of, but, being his only article of property, he could not afford to laugh very heartily at such sallies.

Look at

A fierce brute he is, and strong. his wide horns, circled with the rings of many years; at the powerful muscles showing beneath the tawny hide, and the long limbs that have crashed through many a strong enclosure. Nothing about him tells of ownership; there is neither cut on his ears, nor scar on his hide. No round-up could gather him in, nor corral secure him; therefore a convention of "cow punchers" suggested general action against the outlaw, and the words were uttered at a time when any diversion was welcome. To mortals condemned to the endless solitude and soulwearying monotony of those vast level plains, the time must come when even a shooting scrape is hailed with glad relief.

"Thar he is, boys!" shouts Tom Jenkins. "Thar. Ketch him and he's your'n!"

"A devil's prize at the best; but here goes," muttered Thompson, pushing forward with the boy beside him.

Hi! The dogs are at him, with barks that become yelps as the brindle gives them a taste of his heels. Down the valley, over the uplands, and the dry creek bottoms, away they go, in a noisy race against the crisp west wind, a tornado of clattering hoofs, jingling

spurs, and loose trappings. The sun beats hot upon them, the dust flies up from the plain. One by one the dogs sneak off to the rear, the ponies flag ; yet Old Abe is as fresh for a break of mile or so, as ready for a savage dash at a timid horse or rider.

"Give it up! He ain't wuth it!" cry the weaker spirits, drawing rein upon a hill, the defiant brute eying them from a safe distance.

"Do ez you please," growled Long Jakę, "but ef you fellers quit, I won't, that's all." "Neither will I!" put in Jimmy, looking foolish, as a laugh was raised at his expense. "The devil you wont !" retorted the other. "Because a square look at you would scare him to death any day." He turned away, glad to have avenged his former defeat. That readiness of tongue which others laughed at and passed over in the boy, angered the herder unaccountably. Besides, he felt sore at the failure of his boast to capture the prize in an hour.

"Come on, boys," proposed Jenkins. "My camp's just around the bend. If we can run him into the big stone corral, we've got him sure; if not, let's stop, and take a fresh start in the morning.”

"All right," chorused the others.

"Look yere, Jimmy," said Al Thompson, as their two horses trotted down the slope together. "You jes' take my advice an' let Jake alone. Its precious easy to git him hot, an' they say he killed a man down on the Divide."

"Oh, give us a rest; I ain't afraid. Why does he keep trying to rile me all the time, just because I'm a boy? It's too mean."

"Go ahead, then! You're pretty smart, Jim Rowell, but I tell you it don't do no feller good to be too smart; mebbe you'll find it out some day."

The second chase proved no more successful than the first. Cunning Old Abe put in his "best licks" for their enlightenment, and, when they gave it up, still seemed unwearied. Tom sprang from his horse to do the honors of his residence.

"Light, gentlemen, 'light and make yourselves at home. Things is a little out of order, consequent on the missus not havin' got

back from Saratogy, but you'll find the mornin' papers in the libr'y. The key of the pianer's on the bureau in my dressin' room. Ef you like, take turns in admirin' the scenery, the long shadders of the chickens fallin' to the east'ard, an' the kingly rooster as he glides forth from the barn."

The mansion whose hospitality was offered in this grandiloquent style, was an extremely scaly-looking dug-out, probably measuring ten by twelve feet. Outside inspection revealed one small door and window, a variegated supply of oyster cans, barrels, and not a few empty bottles-which last, however, were modestly disposed in the background. A broom had been placed outside, as if for display, but a donkey at a distance was solemnly making a meal of it. A small flock of emaciated chickens gathered expectantly in vain, for Tom had the masculine habit of neglecting his chlckens. Two thrifty looking. objects redeemed the appearance of his ranches-a fine barn, and a corral with high stone walls. Yet he was a lord of many herds, who might drive in his carriage if he pleased.

Without further study of this bachelor's hall, we will follow the herders as they make for the well, tired, thirsty, yet good natured

all but Jake, who finds Jim dealing out water with a tin cup, the only one at hand. His scowl deepened a trifle with impatience.

"Here Al," said Jim, looking from Jake to Thompson, who stood beside him, “Age before beauty."

The answering smiles stung the border vagabond. Snatching the cup, and flinging its contents full in Jim's face, "Clear yourself, you young scamp!" he ordered.

Flushing savagely, the boy caught something from his side, but Thompson's powerful hand was on his arm.

"What do you mean, you little fool?" he cried. "Was this what you came here for? Jes' you ride home ez fast ez you kin go,” he added, taking him aside, "an' for God's sake don't let your folks know of this; I'll not tell."

"Ef it had been any one but Jimmy," soliloquized the good-humored fellow, as he went back to his companions, "I shouldn't

have cared. Jake ain't very pretty, anyhow, an' I reckon he'd make a better lookin' angel than anything else."

Jim, meantime, mounted and rode off, without looking back. Angry tears forced themselves to his eyes as he pressed on, taking no note of the road, until December sunset flames burned out along the horizon. The sudden twilight warned him to seek some shelter for the night, which already promised to be colder than usual. He rode up a deep gulch, dismounted, fastened his pony, and made a brush fire, luckily finding a few matches in his pocket. Then he leaned against the bank and thought over the day's events. Fiery thoughts he had, until another idea made its entrance into his brain, cooling them off a little.

"What right had you there at all?" insinuated conscience, or whatever reflective faculty takes her place in a boy's mind. Had he not started out to find poor little Kitty, who was now, perhaps, through his fault, lying stiff and cold somewhere on the broad prairie? Jim liked Kitty Nichols. I suppose any rough but kind-hearted boy would have liked such a pretty, blue-eyed mite, when she came running to meet him with unfailing delight. Her folks were neighbors, and she was their only little girl. His heart reproached him for having left her to her fate.

"Oh, well, they've surely found her by this time," he reasoned uneasily; then, heaping up the fire, fell asleep.

He awoke, shivering with more than cold. He thought that, finding Kitty asleep, he had called her to rise and come home, when a lean, gray wolf bounded upon her. He seized it by the throat, but had not the strength to strangle it, and dared not let go. Though near home, he was unable to speak aloud, either to call help or wake the sleeping child, while the air was hideous with the sharp cries of advancing wolves. When he shook off this nightmare, his comfort was not increased by hearing the yells of his dream multiply around him, and seeing wellknown dark figures slink over the hills. A light snow had sifted down during the night, and the world showed ghostly white in the

cold, gray dawn. With much difficulty Jinmy coaxed the damp wood to a blaze, and hung over it in hungry remembrance of the warm home breakfasts.

The sun had scarcely risen above the low hills, when watery-looking clouds obscured the whole sky, and a chill wind whistled through the bushes. Jim got the pony and started for home. On fresh, cool mornings, exercise of any kind is delightful, and he had not gone far before his spirits were considerably heightened.

Crossing a gully, his quick eye discerned a mark on the other side. It was a child's footprint in the snow. He followed it up, and found a chain of such prints. But all around, intersecting it in places, were the tracks of the prairie wolves.

Just then the ground shook as the band of mounted herders swept past. Jake alone reined up beside him. His face showed that he had been drinking.

"Don't you wish you hadn't lost your chance of catching Old Abe?" he sneered. "I've as good a chance as you have, but I've something better to do," the boy returned, tracing the tracks as he spoke. Jake looked at him a moment; then, seeing how far the others were ahead, spurred his broncho into joining them.

Left to himself, Jim moved along, watching the ground with intense interest. Last night she was alive, then, and he might still find her. The light snow, however, rapidly disappearing, gave him no further aid.

Startled by the well-known rush of hoofs and clamor of voices, he hurried his pony to a point whence he could see the chase. Straight onward flies the infuriated steer, hotly pursued by the herders. They have nearly run him down. The mighty head is lowered, the fierce eyes haggard, and the muscles tense with exertion. It is easy to see that he is near his end; easy to know, also, that his last struggle will be a desperate one.

Lifting his head, Old Abe glared around. him; then, lowering his horns, made a sudden sweep to the right at an object not twenty yards away. Good Heavens! It was the