for meals; and thus Jack,
as the youngest, had to bear the brunt of everything.  He no longer
went to school, for his uncle's wife wanted him to wash floors, carry
water, and go endless errands for her.  Every morning and evening he
had to look for Roanie, the cow, who was given to wandering off on the
prairie for long distances, searching for better pasture.  When he had
driven her home he had to milk her, and if he chanced to be late
getting her in he was severely scolded, and oftentimes deprived of his
supper.

It was a hard life for the little lad, and many a night he sobbed
himself to sleep as he thought sadly of the happy days before his
parents left him.

There was another thought troubling him, and that was, _Why hadn't his
people sent for him, as they promised_?  Was it possible that they had
forgotten him, or meant to leave him for years with Uncle Mat?

It was dreadful to think about, but there was no getting over the facts
of the case, and Jack knew right well that it was long past the time
they had said he should be away from them.  Only one year!  He
remembered it as if it were but yesterday, but not even a message had
come for him.  He could not understand it, and his heart felt sad and
sore as he often crept away to escape his uncle's drunken wrath or the
wife's cruel blows.

One evening he could not find Roanie for nearly two hours, and when he
got home, tired and hungry, he found Mrs. Byrne in a bad temper.  She
gave him a little dry bread for supper, and, anxious to get away from
her tongue, Jack stole off across the prairie for some way, where,
lying on the short, burnt-up grass, he gave vent to his misery, and
burying his head in his hands, had a good cry.

Suddenly he heard the sound of horse's hoofs approaching him, and a
great jingling of spurs, as someone dashed up close to him and stopped
abruptly.  Jack looked up, and was surprised to see his cousin Steve,
looking very smart and happy.

'Hello, young un!' he cried, jumping off his horse.  'I thought it was
you, so I turned off the prair