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30 THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE
"Hello, papa! are you receiving this morning?" drawled Spot Holden. "Is that you, Spot?" laughed Carter, springing down the steps and shaking hands all around. "I'm always at home to my friends, you know. You fellows have been awfully scarce lately."
The boys stood about awkwardly, shifting uneasily and sending sidewise glances toward the little cabin. "What's all that £Urglin ' ? " ^inquired Spot, presently. "^Anybody blowin' soap bubbles inside?"
Carter looked around with dawning comprehension, and then burst into a shout of laughter. "I'll bet you fellows have come to call on the missus and the little kid. Why, hang it all, you haven 't seen him yet, have you ? ' ' "No, and that's what we rode round for," replied Spot, still speaking for the bunch. "Also, we're mighty glad to know his gender. There's no danger now of our havin' daylight let into us for callin' him it!"
"Welly come in, fellows," said Carter, leading the way proudly. "He's the slickest little kid you ever saw — unless some of you have some of your "ye'll meet him on the sly, will own."
ye?" he cried "There, what do you think of him
for brand?" queried the fond father, Wharton, on the Lonesome Pine, triumphantly, as the boys blundered dwelt, with his bride, in one of Whar in, trying to conceal their real interton's cabins. Only that Frank's tern est by clumsy jokes, pestuous father refused a reconcilia "She's a winner, all right, old
tion for what he still blustered was man" — but Spot's further speech a mesalliance, young Carter enjoyed was suddenly cut off by Jim Barton, a happiness which is seldom given to ' ' Fer the Lord 's sake, Spot, shut up ! men who make such complete havoc Didn't you hear him say she was a among social traditions. When the boy, I mean that she is a he — that is, little son came, and all the latent in that it was a him ? ' ' stincts of the ideal mother unfolded In the roar of laughter that folin Lola like an opening rose, Frank's lowed, Jim sank into a chair, weak content deepened to an abiding joy. with his efforts at labelling the kidOne morning late in summer young die, while Spot dived into his pocket, Carter had stolen into the living-room pulling out a bulky parcel, which he to watch his boy, gurgling joyously unrolled with clumsy haste, as the over his little pink toes as he lay on others leaned near, giving him friendhis back in his mother's lap, when a ly directions.
sudden whoop and clatter of hoofs "Easy, now," cautioned Bill Johnbrought him to the door as a bunch son, "dont let them lily fingers of of cowpunchers sprang from their yourn do any damage to the filly
bronchos in a cloud of dust. gree.
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