M. A. L. LANE
ittle Nathan King was driving home his father's cows.
It was a cold night in October. In the clear sky the stars shone bright.
The dry leaves fluttered down upon the road where they lay in drifts.
The air was sharp. Once a chestnut burr dropped at the boy's feet.
"Winter will soon be here," Nathan said to himself. He was thinking of the snug kitchen and the good warm supper that his mother would have ready for him.
It was dark. Nathan could just see the black shapes of the cows.
There were five of them. They were good, kind cows. Nathan liked to take care of them.
He liked to pat their sleek, smooth sides.