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The little fellow twisted in shy indecision.

“Don’t like me??” Nance asked aggrievedly. “I like you——” She smiled again and reached the hand a little nearer.

Diffidently the child took it—edged up—hesitated.

She was wise enough to not insist, even to relax her pull a bit.

True to the law of the contrary which rules the world of childhood, he sidled closer—leaned against her shoulder—and the girl gently folded him in her arms.

At the feel of the thin little body, all bones and skin under the dilapidated garments, the protective thrill of potential motherhood went through her and tears swam suddenly in her eyes.

A neglected pair, or one smitten by dire poverty, she thought pitifully—this lone little chap hiding among the rocks and guarded so well by the skeleton dog. The dog, by the way, had risen belligerently to his feet at the child’s advance, and his eyes were gleaming again at this unlooked-for familiarity with a total stranger.

“Call him, sonny,” she said, and the child obeyed.

And so it was that after a while Blue Stone Cañon saw the miracle of friendship grow like a magic flower in its pale light, for the girl talked low and sweetly to the child in her lap—and strangest of all, the savage Collie sat gravely on his plumy tail beside the two, accepting the turn of fate.