I looked down into them big brown eyes and wondered--well, I don't know what I wondered; but I remembered all at once that I didn't have no son.
"'Who's your folks ?' says I, gettin' more an' more curious.
"He jest looked at me sort of bored.
"'Where does your folks live at ?' says I.
"'Oh, they live around here,' says he, an' he waved his hand again, an' this time over towards the east.
"Says I: 'When do you figure on reachin' home ?' "'Oh, most any day,' says he.
"An' I looked around at them brown, naked hills with the night comin' down over them.

Then I stared back at the boy an' there was something that come up in me like hunger.

You see, he was lost; he was alone; the queer ring of his whistlin' was still in my ears; an' I couldn't help rememberin' that I didn't have no son.
"'Then supposin' you come along with me,' says I, 'an' I'll send you home in a buckboard tomorrow ?' "So the end of it was me ridin' home with the little kid sittin' up before me, whistlin' his heart out! When I got him home I tried to talk to him again.

He couldn't tell me, or he wouldn't tell me where his folks lived, but jest kept wavin' his hand liberal to half the points of the compass.

An' that's all I know of where he come from.