He watched her go with quivering lips, and as the little figure slowly faded into the shadows of the woods he called in broken accents:
"Kiss Mamma for me—and tell her I wanted to go back and say good-by—but Joe wouldn't let me!"
"Yes, honey!"
"And you—watch out for that old drunk man we saw once in the woods, Polly!"
"Yes!"
"Don't let him get you—"
"No—I won't—good—good-by!"
"Good-by—"
The last good-by stuck in the Boy's throat, but he lifted his blue eyes, saw his pony and smiled through the tears.