"Outside, anyhow," he added, anxiously. "Goodness knows what you're like inside. You can yell all right."
"What are you doing with my kid?"
He looked up in horror. Mr. Crowe stood over them. But he was smiling. The baby turned a howl into a chuckle and crawled towards his father rapidly.
"I—I had to run for the Boss," Hugh explained.
"I saw you. But where did this fellow come in?"
"Mrs. Crowe lent him to me. Couldn't leave him."
"That so? Well, you can take him back."
No other comment was made; Hugh departed, thankful to get off with so little trouble. He returned to the yellow caravan by a roundabout route, keeping as many vehicles as possible between himself and Big Dan. Mrs. Crowe, declaring that she feit ten years younger after her sleep, gave him a slice of cake and an invitation to come to her whenever he wanted a button sewn on.
It was the beginning of a friendship. Life was too busy for Hugh to go very often to the yellow caravan: but he did so when he could, sure always of a welcome. Lennie would greet him with shouts of joy, knowing that his coming meant an outing and a game. Hugh grew very fond of the merry baby. Mrs. Crowe was grateful for the hours of rest she snatched when he was in Hugh's care. And Crowe observed, saying nothing, but often intervening in hours of rush to save the boy from a task too hard for his strength.
What Big Dan thought concerning Hugh was not known. Even Mrs. Dan did not ask him. It was signifi-