"At this rate I'll be able to retire by and by," smiled the lad.
"You will have more money to spend on your trip this summer," was the reply.
"Yes. My trip with you to the mountains."
"Oh, no, I didn't mean that. You know what I mean, Tad."
"I'm not going, mother. My mind is made up."
"Will it be much of a disappointment to you if you do not go with your friends?"
"Now, you know it won't," replied Tad playfully, as he passed an arm around his mother's waist. "What fun could I possibly have that would compare with going away with you and seeing you grow back into perfect health?"
Mrs. Butler smiled proudly, though she sighed at the thought of the pleasant jaunt that her son offered so readily to give up.
A few days later the other boys decided that they would go on without Tad if they must, though they grumbled a good deal. Tad Butler came forward, taking a hearty interest in all their preparations for this hike in the saddle. He put their kits in shape, made a new lariat for Ned Rector, mended the tents, and in general threw himself as heartily into all the advanced work as though he were going himself. On the day of their departure Professor Zepplin arrived to take charge of the party, as he had been doing for several seasons past.
Three of the boys and the Professor rode to the station, there to car their stock, Tad plodding along on foot, feeling strangely unfamiliar with himself at such a time. Yet, from young Butler's face, one would have thought him the happiest of all the party that gathered at the station, and perhaps down in his heart he was happy, knowing that he was doing what he knew to be his duty to the mother that he loved so well. There was a real shadow, however, on the happiness of his companions—the inability of Tad to go with them on their summer's outing.