BRUVVER JIM'S BABY

BY

PHILIP VERRILL MIGHELS

NEW YORK AND LONDON

HARPER & BROTHERS

PUBLISHERS MCMIV

Copyright, 1904, by HARPER & BROTHERS. 

_All rights reserved. _

Published May, 1904. 

This Volume is

Dedicated, with much affection, to

My Mother

CONTENTS

 I. A MIGHTY LITTLE HUNTER II. JIM MAKES DISCOVERIES III. THE WAY TO MAKE A DOLL IV. PLANNING A NEW CELEBRATION V. VISITORS AT THE CABIN VI. THE BELL FOR CHURCH VII. THE SUNDAY HAPPENINGS VIII. OLD JIM DISTRAUGHT IX. THE GUILTY MISS DOC X. PREPARATIONS FOR CHRISTMAS XI. TROUBLES AND DISCOVERIES XII. THE MAKING OF A CHRISTMAS-TREE XIII. THEIR CHRISTMAS-DAY XIV. "IF ONLY I HAD THE RESOLUTION" XV. THE GOLD IN BOREALIS XVI. ARRIVALS IN CAMP XVII. SKEEZUCKS GETS A NAME XVIII. WHEN THE PARSON DEPARTED XIX. OLD JIM'S RESOLUTION XX. IN THE TOILS OF THE BLIZZARD XXI. A BED IN THE SNOW XXII. CLEANING THEIR SLATE XXIII. A DAY OF JOY

BRUVVER JIM'S BABY

CHAPTER I

A MIGHTY LITTLE HUNTER

It all commenced that bright November day of the Indian rabbit driveand hunt. The motley army of the Piute tribe was sweeping tremendouslyacross a sage-brush valley of Nevada, their force two hundred braves innumber. They marched abreast, some thirty yards apart, and formed aline that was more than two miles long. 

The spectacle presented was wonderful to see. Red, yellow, and indigoin their blankets and trappings, the hunters dotted out a line of coloras far as sight could reach. Through the knee-high brush they sweptahead like a firing-line of battle, their guns incessantly booming, their advance never halted, their purpose as grim and inexorable asfate itself. Indeed, Death, the Reaper, multiplied two-hundred-foldand mowing a swath of incredible proportions, could scarcely havepillaged the land of its conies more thoroughly. 

Before the on-press of the two-mile wall of red men with their smokingweapons, the panic-stricken rabbits scurried helplessly. Soon or latethey must double back to their burrows, soon or late they musttherefore die. 

Behind the army, fully twenty Indian ponies, ridden by theyoungster-braves of the cavalcade, were bearing great white burdens ofthe slaughtered hares. 

The glint of gun-barrels, shining in the sun, flung back the light, from end to end of the undulating column. Billows of smoke, out-puffing unexpectedly, anywhere and everywhere along the line, marked down the tragedies where desperate bunnies, scudding from coverand racing up or down before the red men, were targets for fiercelybiting hail of lead from two or three or more of the guns at once. 

And nearly as frightened as the helpless creatures of the brush was atiny little pony-rider, back of the army, mounted on a plodding horsethat was all but hidden by its load of furry game. He was ridingdouble, this odd little bit of a youngster, with a sturdy Indian boywho was on in front. That such a timid little dot of manhood shouldhave been permitted to join the hunt was a wonder. He was apparentlynot more than three years old at the most. With funny little trousersthat reached to his heels, with big brown eyes all eloquent of doubt, and with round, little, copper-colored cheeks, impinged upon by an oldfur cap he wore, pulled down over forehead and ears, he appeared aboutas quaint a little man as one could readily discover. 

But he seemed distressed. And how he did hang on! The rabbits securedupon the pony were crowding him backward most alarmingly. At first hehad clung to the back of his fellow-rider's shirt with all the mightand main of his tiny hands. As the burden of the rabbits hadincreased, however, the Indian hunters had piled them in between thetimid little scamp and his sturdier companion, till now he was almostout on the horse's tail. His alarm had, therefore, becomeoverwhelming. No fondness for the nice warm fur of the bunnies, nofaith in the larger boy in front, could suffice to drive from his tinyface the look of woe unutterable, expressed by his eyes and histrembling little mouth. 

The Indians, marching steadily onward, had come to the mountain thatbounded the plain. Already a score were across the road that led tothe mining-camp of Borealis, and were swarming up the sandy slope tocomplete the mighty swing of the army, deploying anew to sweep farwestward through the farther half of the valley, and so at lengthbackward whence they came. 

The tiny chap of a game-bearer, gripping the long, velvet ears of oneof the jack-rabbits tied to his horse, felt a horrid new sensation ofsliding backward when the pony began to follow the hunters up the hill. Not only did the animal's rump seem to sink beneath him as they tookthe slope, but perspiration had made it amazingly smooth and insecure. 

The big fat rabbits rolled against the desperate little man in aponderous heap. The feet of one fell plump in his face, and seemed tokick, with the motion of the horse. Then a buckskin thong abruptlysnapped in twain, somewhere deep in the bundle, and instantly the earsto which the tiny man was clinging, together with the head and body ofthat particular rabbit, and those of several others as well, partedcompany with the pony. Gracefully they slid across the tail of themuch-relieved creature, and, pushing the tiny rider from his seat, theylanded with him plump upon the earth, and were left behind. 

Unhurt, but nearly buried by the four or five rabbits thus pulled fromthe load by his sudden descent from his perch, the dazed little fellowsat up in the sand and solemnly noted the rapid departure of the Indianarmy--pony, companion, and all. 

Not only had his fall been unobserved by the marching braves, but theboy with whom he had just been riding was blissfully unaware of thefact that something behind had dismounted. The whole vast line ofPiute braves pressed swiftly on. The shots boomed and clattered, asthe hill-sides were startled by the echoes. Red, yellow, indigo--theblankets and trappings were momentarily growing less and less distinct. 

More distant became the firing. Onward, ever onward, swung the great, long column of the hunters. Dully, then even faintly, came the noiseof the guns. 

At last the firing could be heard no more. The two hundred warriors, the ponies, the boys that rode--all were gone. Even the rabbits, thatan hour before had scampered here and there in the brush with theirfurry feet, would never again go pattering through the sand. The sunshone warmly down. The great world of valley and mountains, gray, severe, unpeopled, was profoundly still, in that wonderful way of thedying year, when even the crickets and locusts have ceased to sing. 

Clinging in silence to the long, soft ears of his motionless bunny, thetimid little game-bearer sat there alone, big-eyed and dumb with wonderand childish alarm. He could see not far, unless it might be up thehill, for the sage-brush grew above his head and circumscribed hisview. Miles and miles away, however, the mountains, in majesty of rockand snow, were sharply lifting upward into blue so deep and cloudlessthat its intimate proximity to the infinite was impressively manifest. The day was sweet of the ripeness of the year, and virginal as all thatmighty land itself. 

With two of the rabbits across his lap, the tiny hunter made no effortto rise. It was certainly secure to be sitting here in the sand, forat least a fellow could fall no farther, and the good, big mountain wasnot so impetuous or nervous as the pony. 

An hour went by and the mere little mite of a man had scarcely moved. The sun was slanting towards the southwest corner of the universe. Aflock of geese, in a great changing V, flew slowly over the valley, their wings beating gold from the sunlight, their honk! honk! honk! thenote of the end of the year. 

How soon they were gone! Then indeed all the earth was abandoned tothe quiet little youngster and his still more quiet company of rabbits. There was no particular reason for moving. Where should he go, and howcould he go, did he wish to leave? To carry his bunny would be quitebeyond his strength; to leave him here would be equally beyond hiscourage. 

But the sun was edging swiftly towards its hiding place; the frost ofthe mountain air was quietly sharpening its teeth. Already the long, gray shadow of the sage-brush fell like a cooling film across thelittle fellow's form and face. 

Homeless, unmissed, and deserted, the tiny man could do nothing but sitthere and wait. The day would go, the twilight come, and the nightdescend--the night with its darkness, its whispered mysteries, itswailing coyotes, cruising in solitary melancholy hither and thither intheir search for food. 

But the sun was still wheeling, like a brazen disk, on the rim of thehills, when something occurred. A tall, lanky man, something overforty years of age, as thin as a hammer and dusty as the road itself--aman with a beard and a long, gray, drooping mustache, and with droopingclothes--a man selected by shiftlessness to be its sign and mark--aminer in boots and overalls and great slouch hat--came tramping down atrail of the mountain. He was holding in his dusty arms a yellowishpup, that squirmed and wriggled and tried to lap his face, andcomported himself in pup-wise antics, till his master was presentlyobliged to put him down in self-defence. 

The pup knew his duty, as to racing about, bumping into bushes, snorting in places where game might abide, and thumping everything hetouched with his super-active tail. Almost immediately he scentedmysteries in plenty, for Indian ponies and hunters had left a fine, large assortment of trails in the sand, that no wise pup could consentto ignore. 

With yelps of gladness and appreciation, the pup went awkwardlyknocking through the brush, and presently halted--bracing abruptly withhis clumsy paws--amazed and confounded by the sight of a frightenedlittle red-man, sitting with his rabbits in the sand. 

For a second the dog was voiceless. Then he let out a bark that madethings jump, especially the tiny man and himself. 

"Here, come here, Tintoretto, " drawlingly called the man from thetrail. "Come back here, you young tenderfoot. "

But Tintoretto answered that he wouldn't. He also said, in thelanguage of puppy barks, that important discoveries demanded not onlyhis but his master's attention where he was, forthwith. 

There was nothing else for it; the mountain was obliged to come toMohammed--or the man to the pup. Then the miner, no less thanTintoretto, was astonished. 

To ward off the barking, the red little hunter had raised his armacross his face, but his big brown eyes were visible above his hand, and their childish seriousness appealed to the man at once. 

"Well, cut my diamonds if it ain't a kid!" drawled he. "Injunpappoose, or I'm an elk! Young feller, where'd you come from, hey?What in mischief do you think you're doin' here?"

The tiny "Injun" made no reply. Tintoretto tried some puppy addresses. He gave a little growl of friendship, and, clambering over rabbits andall, began to lick the helpless child on the face and hands withunmistakable cordiality. One of the rabbits fell and rolled over. Tintoretto bounded backward in consternation, only to gather hiscourage almost instantly upon him and bark with lusty defiance. 

"Shut up, you anermated disturbance, " commanded his owner, mildly. "You're enough to scare the hair off an elephant, " and, squatting infront of the wondering child, he looked at him pleasantly. "What youup to, young feller, sittin' here by yourself?" he inquired. "Scared?Needn't be scared of brother Jim, I reckon. Say, you 'ain't been lefthere for good? I saw the gang of Injuns, clean across the country, from up on the ridge. It must be the last of their drives. That it?And you got left?"

The little chap looked up at him seriously and winked his big, browneyes, but he shut his tiny mouth perhaps a trifle tighter than before. As a matter of fact, the miner expected some such stoical silence. 

The pup, for his part, was making advances of friendship towards themotionless rabbits. 

"Wal, say, Piute, " added Jim, after scanning the country with hiskindly eyes, "I reckon you'd better go home with me to Borealis. TheInjuns wouldn't look to find you now, and you can't go on settin' herea waitin' for pudding and gravy to pass up the road for dinner. Whatdo you say? Want to come with me and ride on the outside seat toBorealis?"

Considerably to the man's amazement the youngster nodded a timidaffirmative. 

"By honky, Tintoretto, I'll bet he savvies English as well as you, "said Jim. "All right, Borealis or bust! I reckon a man who travelstwenty miles to git him a pup, and comes back home with you and thishere young Piute, is as good as elected to office. Injun, what's yourname?"

The tiny man apparently had nothing to impart by way of an answer. 

"'Ain't got any, maybe, " commented Jim. "What's the matter with menamin' you, hey? Suppose I call you Aborigineezer? All in favor, ay!Contrary minded? Carried unanimously and the motion prevails. "

The child, for some unaccountable reason, seemed appalled. 

"We can't freight all them rabbits, " decided the miner. "And, Tintoretto, you are way-billed to do some walkin'. "

He took up the child, who continued to cling to the ears of his oneparticular hare. As all the jacks were tied together, all were liftedand were dangling down against the miner's legs. 

"Huh! you can tell what some people want by the way they hang righton, " said Jim. "Wal, no harm in lettin' you stick to one. We can eathim for dinner to-morrow, I guess, and save his hide in the bargain. "

He therefore cut the buckskin thong and all but one of the rabbits fellto the earth, on top of Tintoretto, who thought he was climbed upon byhalf a dozen bears. He let out a yowp that scared himself half intofits, and, scooting from under the danger, turned about and flung afearful challenge of barking at the prostrate enemy. 

"Come on, unlettered ignoramus, " said his master, and, holding thewondering little foundling on his arm, with his rabbit still clutchedby the ears, he proceeded down to the roadway, scored like a narrowgray streak through the brush, and plodded onward towards themining-camp of Borealis. 

CHAPTER II

JIM MAKES DISCOVERIES

It was dark and there were five miles of boot-tracks and seven miles ofpup-tracks left in the sand of the road when Jim, Tintoretto, andAborigineezer came at length to a point above the small constellationof lights that marked the spot where threescore of men had builded atown. 

From the top of the ridge they had climbed, the man and the pup alonelooked down on the camp, for the weary little "Injun" had fallenasleep. Had he been awake, the all to be seen would have been oflittle promise. Great, sombre mountains towered darkly up on everyside, roofed over by an arch of sky amazingly brilliant with stars. Below, the darkness was the denser for the depth of the hollow in thehills. Vaguely the one straight street of Borealis was indicated bythe lamps, like a thin Milky Way in a meagre universe of lesser lights, dimly glowing and sparsely scattered on the rock-strewn acclivities. 

From down there came the sounds of life. Half-muffled music, raucoussinging, blows of a hammer, yelpings of a dog, hissing of steamescaping somewhere from a boiler--all these and many other disturbancesof the night furnished a microcosmic medley of the toiling, playing, hoping, and fearing, where men abide, creating that frailest and yetmost enduring of frailties--a human community. 

The sight of his town could furnish no novelties to the miner on top ofthe final rise, and feeling somewhat tired by the weight of his smallcompanion, as well as hungry from his walking, old Jim skirted therocky slope as best he might, and so came at length to an isolatedcabin. 

This dark little house was built in the brush, quite up on the hillabove the town, and not far away from a shallow ravine where a trickleof water from a spring had encouraged a straggling growth of willows, alders, and scrub. Some four or five acres of hill-side about theplace constituted the "Babylonian Glory" mining-claim, which Jimaccounted his, and which had seen about as much of his labor as mightbe developed by digging for gold in a barrel. 

"Nobody home, " said the owner to his dog, as he came to the door andshouldered it open. "Wal, all the more for us. "

That any one might have been at home in the place was accounted forsimply by the fact that certain worthies, playing in and out of luck, as the wheel of fate might turn them down or up, sometimes lived withJim for a month at a time, and sometimes left him in solitude forweeks. One such transient partner he had left at the cabin when hestarted off to get the pup now tagging at his heels. Thishouse-partner, having departed, might and might not return, either now, a week from now, or ever. 

The miner felt his way across the one big room which the shackafforded, and came to a series of bunks, built like a pantry againstthe wall. Into one of these he rolled his tiny foundling, after whichhe lighted a candle that stood in a bottle, and revealed the smokyinterior of the place. 

Three more of the bunks were built in the eastern end of the room; afireplace occupied a portion of the wall against the hill; a tablestood in the centre of the floor, and a number of mining tools littereda corner. Cooking utensils were strewn on the table liberally, whileothers hung against the wall or depended from hooks in the chimney. This was practically all there was, but the place was home. 

Tintoretto, beholding his master preparing a fire to heat up some food, delved at once into everything and every place where a wet little nosecould be thrust. Having snorted in the dusty corners, he trotted tothe bench whereon the water-bucket stood, and, standing on his hindlegs, gratefully lapped up a drink from the pail. His thirst appeased, he clambered ambitiously into one of the bunks, discovered a nice pairof boots, and, dragging one out on the floor, proceeded to carry itunder the table and to chew it as heartily as possible. 

There was presently savory smoke, sufficient for an army, in the place, while sounds of things sizzling made music for the hungry. The minerlaid bare a section of the table, which he set with cups, plates, andiron tools for eating. He then dished up two huge supplies of steamingbeans and bacon, two monster cups of coffee, black as tar, and cut agiant pile of dun-colored bread. 

"Aborigineezer, " he said, "the banquet waits. "

Thereupon he fetched his weary little guest to the board and attemptedto seat him on a stool. The tiny man tried to open his eyes, but theeffort failed. Had he been awake and sitting erect on the seatprovided for his use, his head could hardly have come to the level ofthe supper. 

"Can't you come to, long enough to eat?" inquired the much-concernedminer. "No? Wal, that's too bad. Couldn't drink the coffee or go thebeans? H'm, I guess I can't take you down to show you off to the boysto-night. You'll have to git to your downy couch. " He returned theslumbering child to the bunk, where he tucked him into the blankets. 

Tintoretto did ample justice to the meal, however, and filled in sothoroughly that his round little pod of a stomach was a burden tocarry. He therefore dropped himself down on the floor, breathed out asigh of contentment, and shut his two bright eyes. 

Old Jim concluded a feast that made those steaming heaps of fooddiminish to the point of vanishing. He sat there afterwards, leaninghis grizzled head upon his hand and looking towards the bunk where thetiny little chap he had found was peacefully sleeping. The fire burnedlow in the chimney; the candle sank down in its socket. On the floorthe pup was twitching in his dreams. Outside the peace, too vast to beruffled by puny man, had settled on all that tremendous expanse ofmountains. 

When his candle was about to expire the miner deliberately preparedhimself for bed, and crawled in the bunk with his tiny guest, where heslept like the pup and the child, so soundly that nothing could sufficeto disturb his dreams. 

The arrows of the sun itself, flung from the ridge of the oppositehills, alone dispelled the slumbers in the cabin. 

The hardy old Jim arose from his blankets, and presently flung the doorwide open. 

"Come in, " he said to the day. "Come in. "

The pup awoke, and, running out, barked in a crazy way of gladness. His master washed his face and hands at a basin just outside the door, and soon had breakfast piping hot. By then it was time to look toAborigineezer. To Jim's delight the little man was wide awake andlooking at him gravely from the blankets, his funny old cap still inplace on his head, pulled down over his ears. 

"Time to wash for breakfast, " announced the miner. "But I don'tguarantee the washin' will be the kind that mother used to give, " andtaking his tiny foundling in his arms he carried him out to the basinby the door. 

For a moment he looked in doubt at the only apology for a wash-rag theshanty afforded. 

"Wal, it's an awful dirty cloth that you can't put a little moreblackness on, I reckon, " he drawled, and dipping it into the water herubbed it vigorously across the gasping little fellow's face. 

Then, indeed, the man was astounded. A wide streak, white as milk, hadappeared on the baby countenance. 

"Pierce my pearls!" exclaimed the miner, "if ever I saw a rag in myshack before that would leave a white mark on anything! Say!" And hetook off the youngster's old fur cap. 

He was speechless for a moment, for the little fellow's hair was asbrown as a nut. 

"I snum!" said Jim, wiping the wondering little face in a sort of feverof discovery and taking off color at every daub with the rag. "Whitekid--painted! Ain't an Injun by a thousand miles!"

And this was the truth. A timid little paleface, fair as dawn itself, but smeared with color that was coming away in blotches, emerged fromthe process of washing and gazed with his big, brown eyes at hisfoster-parent, in a way that made the miner weak with surprise. Such apretty and wistful little armful of a boy he was certain had never beenseen before in all the world. 

"I snum! I certainly snum!" he said again. "I'll have to take youright straight down to the boys!"

At this the little fellow looked at him appealingly. His lip began totremble. 

"No-body--wants--me, " he said, in baby accents, "no-body--wants--me--anywhere. "

CHAPTER III

THE WAY TO MAKE A DOLL

For a moment after the quaint little pilgrim had spoken, the minerstared at him almost in awe. Had a gold nugget dropped at his feetfrom the sky his amazement could scarcely have been greater. 

"What's that?" he said. "Nobody wants you, little boy? What's thematter with me and the pup?" And taking the tiny chap up in his armshe sat in the doorway and held him snugly to his rough, old heart androcked back and forth, in a tumult of feeling that nothing couldexpress. 

"Little pard, " he said, "you bet me and Tintoretto want you, righthere. "

For his part, Tintoretto thumped the house and the step and the miner'sshins with the clumsy tail that was wagging his whole puppy body. Thenhe clambered up and pushed his awkward paws in the little youngster'sface, and licked his ear and otherwise overwhelmed him with attentions, till his master pushed him off. At this he growled and began to chewthe big, rough hand that suppressed his demonstrations. 

In lieu of the ears of the rabbit to which he had clung throughout thenight, the silent little man on the miner's knee was holding now toJim's enormous fist, which he found conveniently supplied. He saidnothing more, and for quite a time old Jim was content to watch hisbaby face. 

"A white little kid--that nobody wants--but me and Tintoretto, " hemused, aloud, but to himself. "Where did you come from, pardner, anyhow?"

The tiny foundling made no reply. He simply looked at the thin, kindlyface of his big protector in his quaint, baby way, but kept his solemnlittle mouth peculiarly closed. 

The miner tried a score of questions, tenderly, coaxingly, but never athing save that confident clinging to his hand and a nod or a shake ofthe head resulted. 

By some means, quite his own, the man appeared to realize that thegrave little fellow had never prattled as children usually do, and thatwhat he had said had been spoken with difficulties, only overcome bystress of emotion. The mystery of whence a bit of a boy so tiny couldhave come, and who he was, especially after his baby statement thatnobody wanted him, anywhere, remained unbroken, after all the miner'squeries. Jim was at length obliged to give it up. 

"Do you like that little dog?" he said, as Tintoretto renewed hisovertures of companionship. "Do you like old brother Jim and the pup?"

Solemnly the little pilgrim nodded. 

"Want some breakfast, all pretty, in our own little house?"

Once more the quaint and grave little nod was forthcoming. 

"All right. We'll have it bustin' hot in the shake of a crockeryanimal's tail, " announced the miner. 

He carried the mite of a man inside and placed him again in the bunk, where the little fellow found his rabbit and drew it into his arms. 

The banquet proved to be a repetition of the supper of the nightbefore, except that two great flapjacks were added to the menu, greasedwith fat from the bacon and sprinkled a half-inch thick with soft brownsugar. 

When the cook fetched his hungry little guest to the board the rabbitcame as well. 

"You ought to have a dolly, " decided Jim, with a knowing nod. "If onlyI had the ingenuity I could make one, sure, " and throughout the meal hewas planning the manufacture of something that should beat the wholewide world for cleverness. 

The result of his cogitation was that he took no time for washing thedishes after breakfast, but went to work at once to make a doll. Theinitial step was to take the hide from the rabbit. Sadly butunresistingly the little pilgrim resigned his pet, and never expectedagain to possess the comfort of its fur against his face. 

With the skin presently rolled up in a nice light form, however, theminer was back in the cabin, looking for something of which to fashiona body and head for the lady-to-be. There seemed to be nothing handy, till he thought of a peeled potato for the lady's head and a big metalpowder-flask to supply the body. 

Unfortunately, as potatoes were costly, the only tuber they had in thehouse was a weazened old thing that parted with its wrinkled skinreluctantly and was not very white when partially peeled. However, Jimpared off enough of its surface on which to make a countenance, andleft the darker hide above to form the dolly's hair. He bored twoeyes, a nose, and a mouth in the toughened substance, and blackenedthem vividly with soot from the chimney. After this he bored a largerhole, beneath the chin, and pushed the head thus created upon the metalspout of the flask, where it certainly stuck with firmness. 

With a bit of cord the skin of the rabbit was now secured about theneck and body of the lady's form, and her beauty was complete. Thatcertain particles of powder rattled lightly about in her gracefulinterior only served to render her manners more animated and her personmore like good, lively company, for Jim so decided himself. 

"There you are. That's the prettiest dolly you ever saw anywhere, "said he, as he handed it over to the willing little chap. "And she allbelongs to you. "

The mite of a boy took her hungrily to his arms, and Jim was peculiarlyaffected. 

"Do you want to give her a name?" he said. 

Slowly the quaint little pilgrim shook his head. 

"Have you got a name?" the miner inquired, as he had a dozen timesbefore. 

This time a timid nod was forthcoming. 

"Oh, " said Jim, in suppressed delight. "What is your nice little name?"

For a moment coyness overtook the tiny man. Then he faintly replied, "Nu-thans. "

"Nuisance?" repeated the miner, and again he saw the timid little nod. 

"But that ain't a name, " said Jim. "Is 'Nuisance' all the name thebaby's got?"

His bit of a guest seemed to think very hard, but at last he nodded asbefore. 

"Well, string my pearls, " said the miner to himself, "if somebody'ain't been mean and low!" He added, cheerfully, "Wal, it's easier tolive down a poor name than it is to live up to a fine one, any day, butwe'll name you somethin' else, I reckon, right away. And ain't thatdolly nice?"

The two were in the midst of appreciating the charms of her ladyshipwhen the cabin door was abruptly opened and in came a coatless, fat, little, red-headed man, puffing like a bellows and pulling down hisshirtsleeves with a great expenditure of energy, only to have themimmediately crawl back to his elbows. 

"Hullo, Keno, " drawled the lanky Jim. "I thought you was mad and goneaway and died. "

"Me? Not me!" puffed the visitor. 

"What's that?" and he nodded himself nearly off his balance towards thetiny guest he saw upon a stool. 

With a somewhat belated bark, Tintoretto suddenly came out from hisboot-chewing contest underneath the table and gave the new-comer anapoplectic start. 

"Hey!" he cried. "Hey! By jinks! a whole menajry!"

"That's the pup, " said Jim. "And, Keno, here's a poor little skeezucksthat I found a-sittin' in the brush, 'way over to Coyote Valley. Ifetched him home last night, and I was just about to take him down tocamp and show him to the boys. "

"By jinks!" said Keno. "Alive!"

"Alive and smart as mustard, " said the suddenly proud possessor of agenuine surprise. "You bet he's smart! I've often noticed how therenever yet was any other kind of a baby. That's one consolation left toevery fool man livin'--he was once the smartest baby in the world, "

"Alive!" repeated Keno, as before. "I'm goin' right down and tell thecamp!"

He bolted out at the door like a shot, and ran down the hill toBorealis with all his might. 

Aware that the news would be spread like a sprinkle of rain, the lankyJim put on his hat with a certain jaunty air of importance, and takingthe grave little man on his arm, with the new-made doll and the pup forcompany, he followed, where Keno had just disappeared from view, downthe slope. 

A moment later the town was in sight, and groups of flannel-shirted, dusty-booted, slouchily attired citizens were discernible coming out ofbuildings everywhere. 

Running up the hill again, puffing with added explosiveness, Keno couldhardly contain his excitement. 

"I've told em!" he panted. "They know he's alive and smart as mustard!"

CHAPTER IV

PLANNING A NEW CELEBRATION

The cream, as it were, of the population of the mining-camp were readyto receive the group from up on the hill. There were nearly twenty menin the delegation, representing every shade of inelegance. Indeed, they demonstrated beyond all argument that the ways of looking roughand unkempt are infinite. There were tall and short who were rough, bearded and shaved who were rougher, and washed and unwashed who wereroughest. And there were still many denizens of Borealis not then onexhibition. 

Webber, the blacksmith; Lufkins, the teamster; Bone, the "barkeep";Dunn, the carpenter, and Field, who had first discovered precious oreat Borealis, and sold out his claims for a gold watch and chain--whichsubsequently proved to be brass--all these and many another shininglight of the camp could be counted in the modest assemblage gatheredtogether to have a look at the "kid" just reported by Keno. 

Surprise had been laid on double, in the town, by the news of what hadoccurred. In the first place, it was almost incredible that old"If-only" Jim had actually made his long-threatened pilgrimage to fetchhis promised pup, but to have him back here, not only with the dog inquestion, but also with a tiny youngster found at the edge of thewilderness, was far too much to comprehend. 

In a single bound, old Jim had been elevated to a starry firmament ofimportance, from wellnigh the lowest position of insignificance in thecamp, attained by his general worthlessness and shiftlessness--of mindand demeanor--which qualities had passed into a proverb of the place. Procrastination, like a cuckoo, had made its nest in his pockets, wherethe hands of Jim would hatch its progeny. Labor and he abhorred eachother mightily. He had never been known to strike a lick of work tilllarder and stomach were both of them empty and credit had taken to thehills. He drawled in his speech till the opening parts of the goodresolutions he frequently uttered were old and forgotten before theremainders were spoken. He loitered in his walk, said the boys, tillhe clean forgot whether he was going up hill or down. "Hurry, " he hadalways said, by way of a motto, "is an awful waste of time that afeller could go easy in. "

Yet in his shambling, easy-going way, old Jim had drifted into nearlyevery heart in the camp. His townsmen knew he had once had a goodeducation, for outcroppings thereof jutted from his personality even ashis cheek-bones jutted out of his russet old countenance. 

Not by any means consenting to permit old Jim to understand howastonishment was oozing from their every pore, the men brought forth byKeno's news could not, however, entirely mask their incredulity andinterest. As Jim came deliberately down the trail, with the palelittle foundling on his arm, he was greeted with every possible term offamiliarity, to all of which he drawled a response in kind. 

Not a few in the group of citizens pulled off their hats at the nearerapproach of the child, then somewhat sheepishly put them on again. With stoical resolutions almost immediately upset, they gatheredclosely in about the miner and his tiny companion, crowding thered-headed Keno away from his place of honor next to the child. 

The quaint little pilgrim, in his old, fur cap and long, "man's"trousers, looked at the men in a grave way of doubt and questioning. 

"It's a sure enough kid, all the same, " said one of the men, as if hehad previously entertained some doubts of the matter. "And ain't hewhite!"

"Of course a white kid's white, " answered the barkeep, scornfully. 

"Awful cute little shaver, " said another. "By cracky, Jim, you musthave had him up yer sleeve for a week! He don't look more'n about oneweek old. "

"Aw, listen to the man afraid to know anything about anything!" brokein the blacksmith. "One week! He's four or five months, or I'm awoodchuck. "

"You kin tell by his teeth, " suggested a leathery individual, strokinghis bony jaw knowingly. "I used to be up on the game myself, but I'm alittle out of practice jest at present. "

"Shut up, you scare him, Shaky, " admonished the teamster. "He's apretty little chipmunk. Jim, wherever did you git him?"

Jim explained every detail of his trip to fetch the pup, stretching outhis story of finding the child and bringing him hither, with pride inevery item of his wonderful performance. His audience listened withprofound attention, broken only by an occasional exclamation. 

"Old If-only Jim! Old son-of-a-sea-cook!" repeated one, time aftertime. 

Meanwhile the silent little man himself was clinging to the miner'sflannel collar with all his baby strength. With shy little glances hescanned the members of the group, and held the tighter to the one safeanchorage in which he seemed to feel a confidence. A number of therough men furtively attempted a bit of coquetry, to win the favor of asmile. 

"You don't mean, Jim, you found him jest a-settin' right in the bresh, with them dead jack-rabbits lyin' all 'round?" insisted the carpenter. 

"That's what, " said Jim, and reluctantly he brought the tale to itsfinal conclusion, adding his theory of the loss of the child by theIndians on their hunt, and bearing down hard on the one little speechthat the tiny foundling had made just this morning. 

The rough men were silenced by this. One by one they took off theirhats again, smoothed their hair, and otherwise made themselves a trifleprettier to look upon. 

"Well, what you goin' to do with him, Jim?" inquired Field, after amoment. 

"Oh, I'll grow him up, " said Jim. "And some day I'll send him tocollege. "

"College be hanged!" said Field. "A lot of us best men in Borealisnever went to college--and we're proud of it!"

"So the little feller said nobody wanted him, did he?" asked theblacksmith. "Well, I wouldn't mind his stayin' 'round the shop. Wheredo you s'pose he come from first? And painted like a little PiuteInjun! No wonder he's a scared little tike. "

"I ain't the one which scares him, " announced a man whose hair, beard, and eyes all stuck out amazingly. "If I'd 'a' found him first he'dlike me same as he takes to Jim. "

"Speakin' of catfish, where the little feller come from original iswhat gits to me, " said Field, the father of Borealis, reflectively. "You see, if he's four or five months old, why he's sure undergrowed. You could drink him up in a cupful of coffee and never even cough. Andbein' undergrowed, why, how could he go on a rabbit-drive along withthe Injuns? I'll bet you there's somethin' mysterious about hisorigin. "

"Huh! Don't you jump onto no little shaver's origin when you 'ain'tgot any too much to speak of yourself, " the blacksmith commanded. "He's as big as any little skeezucks of his size!"

"Kin he read an' write?" asked a person of thirty-six, who had "pickedup" the mentioned accomplishments at the age of thirty-five. 

"He's alive and smart as mustard!" put in Keno, a champion by right ofprior acquaintance with the timid little man. 

"Wal, that's all right, but mustard don't do no sums in 'rithmetic, "said the bar-keep. "I'm kind of stuck, myself, on this here pup. "

Tintoretto had been busily engaged making friends in any direction mosthandily presented. He wound sinuously out of the barkeep's reach, however, with pup-wise discrimination. The attention of the companywas momentarily directed to the small dog, who came in for not a few ofthe camp's outspoken compliments. 

"He's mebbe all right, but he's homely as Aunt Marier comin' throughthe thrashin'-machine, " decided the teamster. 

The carpenter added: "He's so all-fired awkward he can't keep step withhisself. "

"Wal, he ain't so rank in his judgment as some I could indicate, "drawled Jim, prepared to defend both pup and foundling to the lastextent. "At least, he never thought he was smart, abscondin' with alittle free sample of a brain. "

"What kind of a mongrel is he, anyway?" inquired Bone. 

"Thorough-breed, " replied old Jim. "There ain't nothing in him butdog. "

The blacksmith was still somewhat longingly regarding the pale littleman who continued to cling to the miner's collar. "What's his name?"said he. 

"Tintoretto, " answered Jim, still on the subject of his yellowish pup. 

"Tintoretto?" said the company, and they variously attacked theappropriateness of any such a "handle. "

"What fer did you ever call him that?" asked Bone. 

"Wal, I thought he deserved it, " Jim confessed. 

"Poor little kid--that's all I've got to say, " replied thecompassionate blacksmith. 

"That ain't the kid's name, " corrected Jim, with alacrity. "That'swhat I call the pup. "

"That's worse, " said Field. "For he's a dumb critter and can't saynothing back. "

"But what's the little youngster's name?" inquired the smith, onceagain. 

"Yes, what's the little shaver's name?" echoed the teamster. "If it'sas long as the pup's, why, give us only a mile or two at first, and therest to-morrow. "

"I was goin' to name him 'Aborigineezer, '" Jim admitted, somewhatsheepishly. "But he ain't no Piute Injun, so I can't. "

"Hard-hearted ole sea-serpent!" ejaculated Field. "No wonder he lookslike cryin'. "

"Oh, he ain't goin' to cry, " said the blacksmith, roughly patting thefrightened little pilgrim's cheek with his great, smutty hand. "What'she got to cry about, now he's here in Borealis?"

"Well, leave him cry, if he wants to, " said the fat little Keno. "I'ain't heard a baby cry fer six or seven years. "

"Go off in a corner and cry in your pocket, and leave it come out asyou want it, " suggested Bone. "Jim, you said the little feller kintalk?"

"Like a greasy dictionary, " said Jim, proudly. 

"Well, start him off on somethin' stirrin'. "

"You can't start a little youngster off a-talkin' when you want to, anymore than you can start a turtle runnin' to a fire, " drawled Jim, sagely. 

"Then, kin he walk?" insisted the bar-keep. 

Jim said, "What do you s'pose he's wearin' pants for, if he couldn't?"

"Put him down and leave us see him, then. "

"This ain't no place for a child to be walkin' 'round loose, " objectedthe gray old miner. "He'll walk some other time. "

"Aw, put him down, " coaxed the smith. "We'd like to see a littlefeller walk. There's never bin no such a sight in Borealis. "

"Yes, put him down!" chorused the crowd. 

"We'll give him plenty of elbow-room, " added Webber. "Git back there, boys, and give him a show. "

As the group could be satisfied with nothing less, and Jim was aware oftheir softer feelings, he disengaged the tiny hand that was closed onhis collar and placed his tiny charge upon his feet in the road. 

How very small, indeed, he looked in his quaint little trousers and hisold fur cap!

Instantly he threw the one little arm not engaged with the furry dollabout the big, dusty knee of his known protector, and buried his facein the folds of the rough, blue overalls. 

"Aw, poor little tike!" said one of the men. "Take him back up, Jim. Anyway, you 'ain't yet told us his name, and how kin any little shaverwalk which ain't got a name?"

Jim took the mere little toy of a man again in his arms and held himclose against his heart. 

"He 'ain't really got any name, " he confessed. "If only I had thepoetic vocabulary I'd give him a high-class out-and-outer. "

"What's the matter with a good old home-made name like Si or Hank orZeke?" inquired Field, who had once been known as Hank himself. 

"They ain't good enough, " objected Jim. "If only I can git aninspiration I'll fit him out like a barn with a bran'-new coat ofpaint. "

"Well, s'pose--" started Keno, but what he intended to say was neverconcluded. 

"What's the fight?" interrupted a voice, and the men shuffled aside togive room to a well-dressed, dapper-looking man. It was Parky, thegambler. He was tall, and easy of carriage, and cultivated a curvingblack mustache. In his scarf he wore a diamond as large as a marble. At his heels a shivering little black-and-tan dog, with legs no largerthan pencils and with a skull of secondary importance to its eyes, followed him mincingly into the circle and stood beside his feet withits tail curved in under its body. 

"What have you got? Huh! Nothing but a kid!" said the gambler, insupreme contempt. 

"And a pup!" said Keno, aggressively. 

The gambler ignored the presence of the child, especially as Tintorettobounded clumsily forward and bowled his own shaking effigy of a canineendways in one glad burst of friendship. 

The black-and-tan let out a feeble yelp. With his boot the gamblerthrew Tintoretto six feet away, where he landed on his feet and turnedabout growling and barking in puppywise questioning of this suddenmanoeuvre. With a few more staccato yelps, the shivering black-and-tanretreated behind the gambler's legs. 

"Of all the ugly brutes I ever seen, " said Parky, "that's the worstyellow flea-trap of the whole caboose. "

"Wal, I don't know, " drawled Jim, as he patted his timid little pilgrimon the back in a way of comfort. "All dogs look alike to a flea, and Ireckon Tintoretto is as good flea-feed as the next. And, anyhow, Iwouldn't have a dog the fleas had deserted. When the fleas desert adog, it's the same as when the rats desert a ship. About that time adog has lost his doghood, and then he ain't no better than a man who'slost his manhood. "

"Aw, I'd thump you and the cur together if you didn't have that kid ondeck, " sneered the gambler. 

"You couldn't thump a drum, " answered Jim, easily. "Come back here, Tintoretto. Don't you touch that skinny little critter with theshakes. I wouldn't let you eat no such a sugar-coated insect. "

The crowd was enjoying the set-to of words immensely. They now lookedto Parky for something hot. But the man of card-skill had little witof words. 

"Don't git too funny, old boy, " he cautioned. "I'd just as soon haveyou for breakfast as not. "

"I wish the fleas could say as much for you or your imitation dog, "retorted Jim. "There's just three things in Borealis that go aroundsmellin' thick of perfume, and you and that little two-ounce package ofdog-degeneration are maybe some worse than the other. "

Parky made a belligerent motion, but Webber, the blacksmith, caught hisarm in a powerful grip. 

"Not to-day, " he said. "The boys don't want no gun-play here thismornin'. "

"You're a lot of old women and babies, " said Parky, and pushing throughthe group he walked away, a certain graceful insolence in his bearing. 

"Speakin' of catfish, " said Field, "we ought to git up some kind of acelebration to welcome Jim's little skeezucks to the camp. "

"That's the ticket, " agreed Bone. "What's the matter with repeatin'the programme we had for the Fourth of July?"

"No, we want somethin' new, " objected the smith. "It ought to besomethin' we never had before. "

"Why not wait till Christmas and git good and ready?" said Jim. 

The argument was that Christmas was something more than four weeks away. 

"We've got to have a rousin' big Christmas fer little Skeezucks, anyhow, " suggested Bone. "What sort of a celebration is there that we'ain't never had in Borealis?"

"Church, " said Keno, promptly. 

This caused a silence for a moment. 

"Guess that's so, but--who wants church?" inquired the teamster. 

"We might git up somethin' worse, " said a voice in the crowd. 

"How?" demanded another. 

"It wouldn't be so far off the mark for a little kid like him, "tentatively asserted Field, the father of the camp, "S'pose we give ita shot?"

"Anything suits me, " agreed the carpenter. "Church might be kind ofdecent, after all. Jim, what you got to say 'bout the subject?"

Jim was still patting the timid little foundling on the back with acomforting hand. 

"Who'd be preacher?" said he. 

They were stumped for a moment. 

"Why--you, " said Keno. "Didn't you find little Skeezucks?"

"Kerrect, " said Bone. "Jim kin talk like a steam fire-engine squirtin'languages. "

"If only I had the application, " said Jim, modestly, "I might git upsomethin' passable. Where could we have it?"

This was a stumper again. No building in the camp had ever beenconsecrated to the uses of religious worship. 

Bone came to the rescue without delay. 

"You kin have my saloon, and not a cent of cost, " said he. 

"Bully fer Bone!" said several of the men. 

"Y-e-s, but would it be just the tip-toppest, tippe-bob-royal of aplace?" inquired Field, a little cautiously. 

"What's the matter with it?" said Bone. "When it's church it's church, and I guess it would know the way to behave! If there's anythingbetter, trot it out. "

"You can come to the shop if it suits any better, " said the blacksmith. "It 'ain't got no floor of gold, and there ain't nothing like wings, exceptin' wheels, but the fire kin be kept all day to warm her up, andthere's plenty of room fer all which wants to come. "

"If I'm goin' to do the preachin', ' I'd like the shop first rate, " saidJim. "What day is to-day?"

"Friday, " replied the teamster. 

"All right. Then we'll say on Sunday we celebrate with church inWebber's blacksmith shop, " agreed old Jim, secretly delighted beyondexpression. "We won't git gay with anything too high-falootin', butwe'd ought to git Shorty Hobb to show up with his fiddle. "

"Certain!" assented the barkeep. "You kin leave that part of the gameto me. "

"If we've got it all settled, I reckon I'll go back up to the shack, "said Jim. "The little feller 'ain't had a chance yet to play with hisdoll. "

"Is that a doll?" inquired the teamster, regarding the grave littlepilgrim's bundle of fur in curiosity. "How does he know it's a doll?"

"He knows a good sight more than lots of older people, " answered Jim. "And if only I've got the gumption I'll make him a whole slough of toysand things. "

"Well, leave us say good-bye to him 'fore you go, " said the blacksmith. "Does he savvy shakin' hands?"

He gave a little grip to the tiny hand that held the doll, and all theothers did the same. Little Skeezucks looked at them gravely, hisquaint baby face playing havoc with their rough hearts. 

"Softest little fingers I ever felt, " said Webber. "I'd give twentydollars if he'd laugh at me once. "

"Awful nice little shaver, " said another. 

"I once had a mighty touchin' story happen to me, myself, " said Keno, solemnly. 

"What was it?" inquired a sympathetic miner. 

"Couldn't bear to tell it--not this mornin', " said Keno. "Tootouchin'. "

"Good-bye fer just at present, little Skeezucks, " said Field, and, suddenly divesting himself of his brazen watch and chain, he offered itup as a gift, with spontaneous generosity. "Want it, Skeezucks?" saidhe. "Don't you want to hear it go?"

The little man would relax neither his clutch on Jim's collar nor hishold of his doll, wherefore he had no hand with which to accept thepresent. 

"Do you think he runs a pawn-shop, Field?" said the teamster. "Put itback. "

The men all guffawed in their raucous way. 

"Keeps mighty good time, all the same, " said Field, and he re-swung thechain, like a hammock, from the parted wings of his vest, and droppedthe huskily ticking guardian of the minutes back to its place in hispocket. 

"Watches that don't keep perfect time, " drawled Jim, "are scarcer thanwimmin who tell their age on the square. "

"Better come over, Jim, and have a drink, " suggested the barkeep. "You're sure one of the movin' spirits of Borealis. "

"No, I don't think I'll start the little feller off with the drinkin'example, " replied the miller. "You'll often notice that the men whogit the name of bein' movin' spirits is them that move a good deal ofwhiskey into their interior department. I reckon we'll mosey home theway we are. "

"I guess I'll join you up above, " said the fat little Keno, pullingstoutly at his sleeves. "You'll need me, anyway, to cut some brush ferthe fire. "

With tiny Skeezucks gravely looking backward at the group of men allwaving their hats in a rough farewell, old Jim started proudly up thetrail that led to the Babylonian Glory claim, with Tintoretto rompingawkwardly at his heels. 

Suddenly, Webber, the blacksmith, left the groups and ran quickly afterthem up the slope. 

"Say, Jim, " he said. "I thought, perhaps, if you reckoned littleSkeezucks ought to bunk down here in town--why--I wouldn't mind if youfetched him over to the house. There's plenty of room. "

"Wal, not to-day I won't, " said Jim. "But thank you, Webber, all thesame. "

"All right, but if you change your mind it won't be no trouble at all, "and, not a little disappointed, the smith waved once more to the littlepilgrim on the miner's arm and went back down the hill. 

Then up spoke Keno. 

"Bone and Lufkins both wanted me to tell you, Jim, if you happen towant a change fer little Skeezucks, you can fetch him down to them, " hesaid. "But of course we ain't agoin' to let 'em have our little kid inno great shakes of a hurry. "

CHAPTER V

VISITORS AT THE CABIN

When Jim and his company had disappeared from view up the rock-strewnslope, the men left below remained in a group, to discuss not only themarvellous advent of a genuine youngster in Borealis, but likewise thefitness of old If-only Jim as a foster-parent. 

"I wouldn't leave him raise a baby rattlesnake of mine, " said Field, whose watch had not been accepted by the foundling. "In fact, thereain't but a few of us here into camp which knows the funderments ofmotherhood, anyhow. "

"I don't mind givin' Jim a few little pointers on the racket, "responded Bone. "Never knew Jim yet to chuck out my advice. 

"He's too lazy to chuck it, " vouchsafed the teamster. "He just lets ittrickle out and drip. "

"Well, we'll watch him, that's all, " Field remarked, with a knowingsquint in his eyes, and employing a style he would not have dared toparade in the hearing of Jim. "Borealis has come to her formalineperiod, and she can't afford to leave this child be raised extraneous. It's got to be done with honor and glory to the camp, even if we haveto take the kid away from Jim complete. "

"He found the little skeezucks, all the same, " the blacksmith remindedthem. "That counts for somethin'. He's got a right to keep him for awhile, at least, unless the mother should heave into town. "

"Or the dad, " added Lufkins. 

"Shoot the dad!" answered Bone. "A dad which would let a little fellersmall as him git lost in the brush don't deserve to git him back. "

"Mysterious case, sure as lizards is insects, " said an individualheretofore silent. "I guess I'll go and tell Miss Doc Dennihan. "

"'Ain't Miss Doc bin told--and her the only decent woman in the camp?"inquired Field. "I'll go along and see you git it right. "

"No Miss Doc in mine, " said the smith. 

"I'll git back and blow my fire up before she's plump dead out. Fearful vinegar Miss Doc would make if ever she melted. "

Miss Dennihan, sister of "Doc" Dennihan, was undeniably If-only Jim'sexact antithesis--a scrupulously tidy, exacting lady, so severe in hervirtues and so acrid in denunciations of the lack of down-eastcircumspection that nearly every man in camp shied off from her abodeas he might have shied from a bath in nitric acid. Six months prior tothis time she had come to Borealis from the East, unexpectedly plumpingdown upon her brother "Doc" with all her moral fixity of purpose, notonly to his great distress of mind, but also to that of all hisacquaintances as well. She had raided the ethical standing of miners, teamsters, and men-about-town; she had outwardly and inwardly condemnedthe loose and indecorous practices of the camp; she had made herself anaccusing hand, as it were, pointing out the road to perdition which alland sundry of the citizens of Borealis, including "Doc, " weretravelling. If-only Jim had promptly responded to her naturalantipathy to all that he represented, and the strained relationsbetween the pair had furnished much amusement for the male populationof the place. 

It was now to this lady that Field and his friend proposed a visit. The group of men broke up, and the news that each one had to tell ofthe doings of Jim was widely spread; and the wonder increased till itstretched to the farthest confines of the place. Then as fast as theminers and other laborers, who were busy with work, could get away fora time sufficiently long, they made the pilgrimage up the slope to thecabin where the tiny foundling had domicile. They found the timidlittle man seated, with his doll, on the floor, from which he watchedthem gravely, in his baby way. 

Half the honors of receiving the groups and showing off the quaintlittle Skeezucks were assumed by Keno, with a grace that might havebeen easy had he not been obliged to pull down his shirt-sleeves withsuch exasperating frequency. 

But Jim was the hero of the hour, as he very well knew. Time aftertime, and ever with thrilling new detail and added incident, herecounted the story of his find, gradually robbing even Tintoretto, thepup, of such of the glory as he really had earned. 

The pup, however, was recklessly indifferent. He could pile up freshglories every minute by bowling the little pilgrim on his back andwalking on his chest to lap his ear. This he proceeded to do, in hisclumsy way of being friendly, with a regularity only possible to anenthusiast. And every time he did it anew, either Keno or Jim or avisitor would shy something at him and call him names. This, however, only served to incite him to livelier antics of licking everybody'sface, wagging himself against the furniture, and dragging the variousbombarding missiles between the legs of all the company. 

There were men, who apparently had nothing else to do, who returned tothe cabin on the hill with every new visiting deputation. A series ofownership in and familiarity with the grave little chap and his storycame upon them rapidly. Field, the father of Borealis, was the mostassiduous guide the camp afforded. By afternoon he knew more about thechild than even Jim himself. 

For his part, the lanky Jim sat on a stool, looking wiser than Solomonand Moses rolled in one, and greeted his wondering acquaintances with acalm and dignity that his oneness in the great event was magnifyinghourly. That such an achievement as finding a lost little pilgrim inthe wilderness might be expected of his genius every day was firmlyimpressed upon himself, if not on all who came. 

"Speakin' of catfish, Jim thinks he's hoein' some potatoes. " said Fieldto a group of his friends. "If one of us real live spirits of Borealishad bin in his place, it's ten to one we'd 'a' found a pair of twins. "

All the remainder of the day, and even after dinner, and up to eighto'clock in the evening, the new arrivals, or the old ones over again, made the cabin on the hill their Mecca. 

"Shut the door, Keno, and sit outside, and tell any more that comealong, the show is over for the day, " instructed Jim, at last. "Theboy is goin' to bed. "

"Did he bring a nightie?" said Keno. 

"Forgot it, I reckon, " answered Jim, as he took the tired little chapin his arms. "If only I had the enterprise I'd make him one to-night. "

But it never got made. The pretty little armful of a boy went to sleepwith all his baby garments on, the long "man's" trousers and all, andJim permitted all to remain in place, for the warmth thereof, he said. Into the bunk went the tiny bundle of humanity, his doll tightly heldto his breast. 

Then Jim sat down and watched the bunk, till Keno had come inside andclimbed in a bed and begun a serenade. At twelve o'clock the miner wasstill awake. He went to his door, and, throwing it open, looked out atthe great, dark mountains and the brilliant sky. 

"If only I had the steam I'd open up the claim and make the littlefeller rich, " he drawled to himself. Then he closed the door, and, removing his clothing, got into the berth where his tiny guest wassleeping, and knew no more till the morning came and a violent knockingon his window prodded his senses into something that answered foractivity. 

"Come in!" he called. "Come in, and don't waste all that noise. "

The pup awoke and let out a bark. 

In response to the miner's invitation the caller opened the door andentered. Jim and Keno had their heads thrust out of their bunks, butthe two popped in abruptly at the sight of a tall female figure. Shewas homely, a little sharp as to features, and a little near togetherand piercing as to eyes. Her teeth were prominent, her mouthunquestionably generous in dimensions, and a mole grew conspicuouslyupon her chin. Nevertheless, she looked, as Jim had once confessed, "remarkly human. " On her head she wore a sun-bonnet. Her black alpacadress was as styleless and as shiny as a stovepipe. It was short, moreover, and therefore permitted a view of a large, flat pair of shoeson which polish for the stovepipe aforesaid had been lavishly coated. 

It was Miss Doc Dennihan. Having duly heard of the advent of a quaintlittle boy, found in the brush by the miner, she had come thus early inthe morning to gratify a certain hunger that her nature felt for thesight of a child. But always one of the good woman's prides had beenconcealment of her feelings, desires, and appetites. She had formed ahabit, likewise, of hiding not a few of her intentions. Instead ofinquiring now for what she sought, she glanced swiftly about theinterior of the cabin and said:

"Ain't you lazy-joints got up yet in this here cabin?"

"Been up and hoisted the sun and went back to bed, " drawled Jim, whileKeno drew far back in his berth and fortified himself behind hisblankets. "Glad to see you, but sorry you've got to be goin' again sosoon. "

"I 'ain't got to be goin', " corrected the visitor, with decision. "Ijest thought I'd call in and see if your clothin' and kitchen truck wasneedin' a woman's hand. Breakfast over to our house is finished andJohn has went to work, and everything has bin did up complete, so'tain't as if I was takin' the time away from John; and this here placeis disgraceful dirty, as I could see with nuthin' but a store eye. Isthese here over-halls your'n?"

"When I'm in 'em I reckon they are, " drawled Jim, in some disquietudeof mind. "But don't you touch 'em! Them pants is heirlooms. Wouldn'thave anybody fool with them for a million dollars. "

"They don't look worth no such a figger, " said Miss Dennihan, as sheheld them up and scanned them with a critical eye. "They're wantin' apatch in the knee. It's lucky fer you I toted my bag. I kin alwaysmatch overhalls, new or faded. "

Keno slyly ventured to put forth his head, but instantly drew it backagain. 

Jim, in his bunk, was beginning to sweat. He held his little foundlingby the hand and piled up a barrier of blankets before them. That manyanother of the male residents of Borealis had been honored by similarvisitations on the part of Miss Doc was quite the opposite ofreassuring. That the lady generally came as a matter of curiosity, andremained in response to a passion for making things glisten withcleanliness, he had heard from a score of her victims. He knew she washere to get her eyes on the grave little chap he was cuddling fromsight, but he had no intention of sharing the tiny pilgrim with any onewhose attentions would, he deemed, afford a trial to the nerves. 

"Seems to me the last time I saw old Doc his shirt needed stitchin' inthe sleeve, " he said. "How about that, Keno?"

Keno was dumb as a clam. 

"You never seen nuthin' of the sort, " corrected Miss Doc, withasperity, and, removing her bonnet, she sat down on a stool, Jim'soveralls in hand and her bag in her lap. "John's mended regular, allbut his hair, and if soap-suds and bear's-grease would patch his top hewouldn't be bald another day. "

"He ain't exactly bald, " drawled the uncomfortable miner. "His hairwas parted down the middle by a stroke of lightnin'. Or maybe youcombed it yourself. "

"Don't you try to git comical with me!" she answered. "I didn't comehere for triflin'. "

Her back being turned towards the end of the room wherein the redheadedKeno was ensconced, that diffident individual furtively put forth hishand and clutched up his boots and trousers from the floor. The latterhe managed to adjust as he wormed about in the berth. Then silently, stealthily, trembling with excitement, he put out his feet, andsuddenly bolting for the door, with his boots in hand, let out a yelland shot from the house like a demon, the pup at his heels, loudlybarking. 

"Keno! Keno! come back here and stand your share!" bawled Jim, lustily, but to no avail. 

"Mercy in us!" Miss Doc exclaimed. "That man must be crazy. "

Jim sank back in his bunk hopelessly. 

"It's only his clothes makes him look foolish, " he answered. "He'ssaner than I am, plain as day. "

"Then it's lucky I came, " decided the visitor, vigorously sewing at thetrousers. "The looks of this house is enough to drive any man insane. You're an ornary, shiftless pack of lazy-joints as ever I seen. Whydon't you git up and cook your breakfast?"

Perspiration oozed from the modest Jim afresh. 

"I never eat breakfast in the presence of ladies, " said he. 

"Well, you needn't mind me. I'm jest a plain, sensible woman, " repliedMiss Dennihan. "I don't want to see no feller-critter starve. "

Jim writhed in the blankets. "I didn't s'pose you could stay all day, "he ventured. 

"I kin stay till I mend all your garmints and tidy up this here cabin, "she announced, calmly. "So let your mind rest easy. " She meant to seethat child if it took till evening to do so. 

"Maybe I can go to sleep again and dream I'm dead, " said Jim, ingrowing despair. 

"If you kin, and me around, you can beat brother John all to cream, "she responded, smoothing out the mended overalls and laying them downon a stool. "Now you kin give me your shirt. "

Jim galvanically gathered the blankets in a tightened noose about hisneck. 

"Hold on!" he said. "Hold on! This shirt is a bran'-new article, andyou'd spoil it if you come within twenty-five yards of it with aneedle. "

"Where's your old one?" she demanded, atilt for something more torepair. Her gaze searched the bunks swiftly, and Jim was sure she waslooking for the little man behind him. "Where's your old one went?"she repeated. 

"I turned it over on a friend of mine, " drawled Jim, who meant he haddeftly reversed it on himself. "It's a poor shirt that won't work bothways. "

"Ain't there nuthin' more I kin mend?" she asked. 

"Not unless it's somethin' of Doc's down to your lovely little home. "

"Oh, I ain't agoin' to go, if that's what you're drivin' at, " sheanswered, as she swiftly assembled the soiled utensils of the cuisine. "I'll tidy up this here pig-pen if it takes a week, and you kin hop upand come down easy. "

"I wouldn't have you go for nothing, " drawled Jim, squirming withabnormal impatience to be up and doing. "Angel's visits are comin'fewer and fewer in a box every day. "

"That's bogus, " answered the lady. "I sense your oilin' me over. Yougit up and go and git a fresh pail of water. "

"I'd like to, " Jim said, convincingly, "but the only time I ever brokemy arm was when I went out for a bucket of water before breakfast. "

"You ain't agoin' is what you mean, with all them come-a-long-way-roundexcuses, " she conjectured. "You've got the name of bein' thelaziest-jointed, mos' shiftless man into camp. "

"Wal, " drawled the helpless miner, "a town without a horrible exampleis deader than the spikes in Adam's coffin. And the next best thing tobeing a livin' example is to hang around the house where one of 'emstays in his bunk all mornin'. "

"If that's another of them underhanded hints of your'n, you might aswell save your breath, " she replied. "I'll go and git the watermyself, fer them dishes is goin' to git cleaned. "

She took up the bucket at once. Outside, the sounds of some onescooting rapidly away brought to Jim a thought of Keno's recentlydemonstrated presence of mind. 

Cautiously sitting up in the berth, so soon as Miss Doc had disappearedwith the pail, he hurriedly drew on his boots. A sound of returningfootsteps came to his startled ears. He leaped back up in the bunk, boots and all, and covered himself with the blanket, to the startlementof the timid little chap, who was sitting there to watch developments. Both drew down as Miss Doc reappeared in the door. 

"I might as well tote a kettleful, too, " she said, and taking thatsoot-plated article from its hook in the chimney she once more startedfor the spring. 

This time, like a guilty burglar, old Jim crept out to the door. Thenwith one quick resolve he caught up his trousers, and snatching hispale little guest from the berth, flung a blanket about them, sneakedswiftly out of the cabin, stole around to its rear, and ran withlong-legged awkwardness down through a shallow ravine to the cover of ahuge heap of bowlders, where he paused to finish his toilet. 

"Hoot! Hoot!" sounded furtively from somewhere near. Then Keno cameducking towards him from below, with Tintoretto in his wake, sorampantly glad in his puppy heart that he instantly climbed on thetimid little Skeezucks, sitting for convenience on the earth, andbowled him head over heels. 

"Here, pup, you abate yourself, " said Jim. "Be solemnly glad and letit go at that. " And he took up the gasping little chap, whose dollwas, as ever, clasped fondly to his heart. 

"How'd you make it?" inquired Keno. "Has she gone for good?"

"No, she's gone for water, " answered the miner, ruefully. "She's seton cleanin' up the cabin. I'll bet when she's finished we'll have topan the gravel mighty careful to find even a color of our once happyhome. "

"Well, you got away, anyhow, " said Keno, consolingly. "You can't haveyour cake and eat it too. "

"No, that's the one nasty thing about cake, " said Jim. He sat on arock and addressed the wondering little pilgrim, who was watching hisface with baby gravity. "Did she scare the boy?" he asked. "Is hegittin' hungry? Does pardner want some breakfast?"

The little fellow nodded. 

"What would little Skeezucks like old brother Jim to make forbreakfast?"

The quaint bit of a man drew a trifle closer to the rough old coat andtimidly answered:

"Bwead--an'--milk. "

The two men started mildly. 

"By jinks!" said the awe-smitten Keno. "By jinks!--talkin'!"

"I told you so, " said Jim, suppressing his excitement. "Bread andmilk?" he repeated. "Just bread and milk. You poor little shaver!Wal, that's as easy as oyster stew or apple-dumplin'. Baby wantanything else?"

The small boy shook a negative. 

"By jinks!" said Keno, as before. "Look at him go it!"

"I'll make some bread to-day, if ever we git back into Eden, " said Jim. "And I'll make him a lot of things. If only I had the stuff in me I'dmake him a Noah's ark and a train of cars and a fat mince-pie. Wouldlittle Skeezucks like a train of cars?"

Again the little pilgrim shook his head. 

"Then what more would the baby like?" coaxed the miner. 

Again with his shy little cuddling up the wee man answered, "Moey--bwead--an'--milk. "

"By jinks!" repeated the flabbergasted Keno, and he pulled at hissleeves with all his strength. 

"Say, Keno, " said Jim, "go find Miss Doc's goat and milk him for theboy. "

"Miss Doc may be home by now, " objected Keno, apprehensively. 

"Well, then, sneak up and see if she has gone off real mad. "

"S'posen she 'ain't?" Keno promptly hedged. "S'posen she seen me?"

"You've got all out-doors to skedaddle in, I reckon. "

Keno, however, had many objections to any manner of venture with thewily Miss Dennihan. It took nearly half an hour of argument to get himup to the brow of the slope. Then, to his uncontainable delight, hebeheld the disgusted and somewhat defeated Miss Doc more than half-waydown the trail to Borealis, and making shoe-tracks with assuringrapidity. 

"Hoot! Hoot!" he called, in a cautious utterance. "She's went, andthe cabin looks just the same--from here. "

But Jim, when he came there, with his tiny guest upon his arm, lookedlong at the well-scrubbed floor and the tidy array of pots, pans, plates, and cups. 

"We'll never find the salt, or nothin', for a week, " he drawled. "Itdoes take some people an awful long time to learn not to meddle withthe divine order of things. "

CHAPTER VI

THE BELL FOR CHURCH

What with telling little Skeezucks of all the things he meant to make, and fondling the grave bit of babyhood, and trying to work out thestory of how he came to be utterly unsought for, deserted, andparentless, Jim had hardly more than time enough remaining, that day, in which to entertain the visiting men, who continued to climb the hillto the house. 

Throughout that Saturday there was never more than fifteen minutes whensome of the big, rough citizens of Borealis were not on hand, attempting always to get the solemn little foundling to answer someword to their efforts at baby conversation. But neither to them, forthe strange array of presents they offered, nor to Jim himself, for allhis gentle coaxing, would the tiny chap vouchsafe the slightest hint ofwho he was or whence he had come. 

It is doubtful if he knew. By the hour he sat where they placed him, holding his doll with something more deep and hungry than affection, and looking at Jim or the visitors in his pretty, baby way of gravityand questioning. 

When he sat on old Jim's knee, however, he leaned in confidence againsthim, and sighed with a sweet little sound of contentment, as poignantto reinspire a certain ecstasy of sadness in the miner's breast as itwas to excite an envy in the hearts of the others. 

Next to Jim, he loved Tintoretto--that joyous, irresponsible bit ofpup-wise gladness whose tail was so utterly inadequate to express hisenthusiasm that he wagged his whole fuzzy self in the manner of anawkward fish. Never was the tiny man seated with his doll on the floorthat the pup failed to pounce upon him and push him over, half a dozentimes. Never did this happen that one of the men, or Jim himself, didnot at once haul Tintoretto, growling, away by the tail or the ear andrestore their tiny guest to his upright position. Never did such agood Samaritan fail to raise his hand for a cuff at the pup, nor everdid one of them actually strike. It ended nearly always in the pup'sattack on the hand in question, which he chewed and pawed at andotherwise befriended as only a pup, in his freedom from worries andcares, can do. 

With absolutely nothing prepared, and with nothing but promises madeand forgotten, old Jim beheld the glory of Sunday morning come, withthe bite and crystalline sunshine of the season in the mountain air. 

God's thoughts must be made in Nevada, so lofty and flawless is theazure sky, so utterly transparent is the atmosphere, so huge, gray, andpassionless the mighty reach of mountains!

Man's little thought was expressed in the camp of Borealis, whichappeared like a herd of small, brown houses, pitifully insignificant inall that immensity, and gathered together as if for company, trustfullynestling in the hand of the earth-mother, known to be so gentle withher children. On the hill-sides, smaller mining houses stood, each oneemphasized by the blue-gray heap of earth and granite--the dump--formedby the labors of the restless men who burrowed in the rock for preciousmetal. The road, which seemed to have no ending-place, was blazedthrough the brush and through the hills in either direction across themiles and miles of this land without a people. The houses of Borealisstood to right and left of this path through the wilderness, as if bycommon consent to let it through. 

Meagre, unknown, unimportant Borealis, with her threescore men and onedecent woman, shared, like the weightiest empire, in the smile, thecare, the yearning of the ever All-Pitiful, greeting the earth withanother perfect day. 

Intelligence of what could be expected, in the way of a celebration atthe blacksmith-shop of Webber, had been more than merely spread; it hadalmost been flooded over town. Long before the hour of ten, scheduledby common consent for church to commence, Webber was sweeping sundryparings of horse-hoof and scraps of iron to either side of his hardearth floor, and sprinkling the dust with water that he flirted fromhis barrel. He likewise wiped off the anvil with his leathern apron, and making a fire in the forge to take off the chill, thrust in a hugehunk of iron to irradiate the heat. 

Many of the denizens of Borealis came and laid siege to the barber-shopas early as six in the morning. Hardly a man in the place, exceptParky, the gambler, had been dressed in extravagance so imposing sincethe 4th of July as was early apparent in the street. Bright newshirts, red, blue, and even white, came proudly to the front. Trouserswere dropped outside of boots, and the boots themselves were polished. A run on bear's-grease and hair-oil lent a shining halo to nearly everyhead the camp could boast. Then the groups began to gather near theopen shop of the smith. 

"We'd ought to have a bell, " suggested Lufkins, the teamster. "Churches always ring the bell to let the parson know it's time he wasshowin' up to start the ball. "

"Well, I'll string up a bar of steel, " said Webber. "You can get acrackin' fine lot of noise out of that. "

He strung it up in a framework just outside the door, ordinarilyemployed for hoisting heavy wagons from the earth. Then with a hammerhe struck it sharply. 

The clear, ringing tone that vibrated all through the hills was astirring note indeed. So the bell-ringer struck his steel again. 

"That ain't the way to do the job, " objected Field. "That sounds likescarin' up voters at a measly political rally. "

"Can you do it any better?" said the smith, and he offered his hammer. 

"Here comes Doc Dennihan, " interrupted the barkeep. "Ask Doc how it'sdone. If he don't know, we'll have to wait for old If-only Jimhisself. "

The brother of the tall Miss Doc was a small man with outstanding ears, the palest gray eyes, and the quietest of manners. He was not a doctorof anything, hence his title. Perhaps the fact that the year before hehad quietly shot all six of the bullets of his Colt revolver into thebody of a murderous assailant before that distinguished person couldfall to the earth had invested his townsmen and admirers with a modestdesire to do him a titular honor. Howsoever that might have been, hehad always subsequently found himself addressed with sincere respect, while his counsel had been sought on every topic, possible, impossible, and otherwise, mooted in all Borealis. The fact that his sister wasthe "boss of his shack, " and that he, indeed, was a henpecked man, wasnever, by any slip of courtesy, conversationally paraded, especially inhis hearing. 

Appealed to now concerning the method of ringing the bar of steel forworshipful purposes, he took a bite at his nails before replying. Thenhe said:

"Well, I'd ring it a little bit faster than you would for a funeral anda little bit slower than you would for a fire. "

"That's the stuff!" said Field. "I knowed that Doc would know. "

But Doc refused them, nevertheless, when they asked if he would deignto do the ringing himself. Consequently Field, the father of the camp, made a gallant attempt at the work, only to miss the "bell" with hishammer and strike himself on the knee, after which he limped to a seat, declaring they didn't need a bell-ringing anyhow. Upon the blacksmiththe duty devolved by natural selection. 

He rang a lusty summons from the steel, that fetched all the dressed-upcongregation of the town hastening to the scene. Still, old Jim, thefaithful Keno, little Skeezucks, and Tintoretto failed to appear. Adeputation was therefore sent up the hill, where Jim was foundinforming his household that if only he had the celerity of action hewould certainly make a Sunday suit of clothing for the tiny little man. For himself, he had washed and re-turned his shirt, combed his hair, and put on a better pair of boots, which the pup had been chewing tooccupy his leisure time. 

The small but impressive procession came slowly down the trail at last, Jim in the lead, with the grave little foundling on his arm. 

"Boys, " said he, as at last he entered the dingy shop and sat hisquaint bit of a man on the anvil, over which he had thoughtfully thrownhis coat--"boys, if only I'd had about fifteen minutes more of time I'dhave thought up all the tricks you ever saw in a church. "

The men filed in, awkwardly taking off their hats, and began to seatthemselves as best they could, on anything they found available. Webber, the smith, went stoutly at his bellows, and blew up a fire thatflamed two feet above the forge, fountaining fiercely with sparks ofthe iron in the coal, and tossing a ruddy light to the darkest cornersof the place. The incense of labor--that homely fragrance of thesmithy all over the world--spread fresh and new to the very dooritself. Old Jim edged closer to the anvil and placed his hand on thesomewhat frightened little foundling, sitting there so gravely, andclasping his doll in fondness to his heart. 

Outside, it was noted, Field had halted the red-headed Keno for amoment's whispered conversation. Keno nodded knowingly. Then he cameinside, and, addressing them all, but principally Jim, he said:

"Say, before we open up, Miss Doc would like to know if she kin come. "

A silence fell on all the men. Webber went hurriedly and closed theponderous door. 

"Wal, she wouldn't be apt to like it till we get a little practisedup, " said the diplomatic Jim, who knew the tenor of his auditors. "Tell her maybe she kin--some other time. "

"This ain't no regular elemercenary institution, " added the teamster. 

"Why not now?" demanded Field. "Why can't she come?"

"Becuz, " said the smith, "this church ain't no place for a woman, anyhow. "

A general murmur of assent came from all the men save Field and DocDennihan himself. 

"Leave the show commence, " said a voice. 

"Start her up, " said another. 

"Wal, now, " drawled Jim, as he nervously stroked his beard, "let's takeit easy. Which opening do all you fellers prefer?"

No one answered. 

One man finally inquired. "How many kinds is there?"

Jim said, "Wal, there's the Methodist, the Baptist, the Graeco-Roman, Episcopalian, and--the catch-as-catch-can. "

"Give us the ketch-and-kin-ketch-as-you-kin, " responded the spokesman. 

"Mebbe we ought to begin with Sunday-school, " suggested the blacksmith. "That would sort of get us ready for the real she-bang. "

"How do you do it?" inquired Lufkins, the teamster. 

"Oh, it's just mostly catechism, " Jim imparted, sagely. 

"And what's catechism?" said Bone. 

"Catechism, " drawled the miner, "is where you ask a lot of questionsthat only the children can answer. "

"I know, " responded the blacksmith, squatting down before the anvil. "Little Skeezucks, who made you?"

The quaint little fellow looked at the brawny man timidly. How pale, how wee he appeared in all that company, as he sat on the great lump ofiron, solemnly winking his big, brown eyes and clinging to hismake-shift of a doll!

"Aw, say, give him something easy, " said Lufkins. 

"That's what they used to bang at me, " said the smith, defending hisposition. "But I'll ask him the easiest one of the lot. Baby boy, " hesaid, in a gentle way of his own, "who is it makes everything?--whomakes all the lovely things in the world?"

Shyly the tiny man leaned back on the arm he felt he knew, and gravely, to the utter astonishment of the big, rough men, in his sweet babyutterance, he said:

"Bruv-ver--Jim. "

A roar of laughter instantly followed, giving the youngster a startthat almost shook him from his seat. 

"By jinks!" said Keno. "That's all right. You bet he knows. "

But the Sunday-school programme was not again attempted. Whensomething like calm had settled once more on the audience, If-only Jimremarked that he guessed they would have to quit their fooling and getdown to the business of church. 

CHAPTER VII

THE SUNDAY HAPPENINGS

But to open the service when quiet reigned again and expectation wasonce more concentrated upon him afforded something of a poser still tothe lanky old Jim, elected to perform the offices of leading. 

"Where's Shorty Hobb with his fiddle?" said he. 

"Parky wouldn't leave him come, " answered Bone. "He loaned him moneyon his vierlin, and he says he owns it and won't leave him play in nochurch that ever got invented. "

"Parky, hey?" said Jim, drawlingly. "Wal, bless his little home'pathicpill of a soul!"

"He says he's fed more poor and done more fer charity than any man intown, " informed a voice. 

"Does, hey?" said the miner. "I'll bet his belly's the only poor thinghe feeds regular. His hand ain't got callous cutting bread for theorphans. But he ain't a subject for church. If only I'd 'a' knownwhat he was agoin' to do I'd made a harp. But let it go. We'll startoff with roll-call and follow that up with a song. "

He therefore began with the name of Webber, who responded "Here, " andproceeding to note who was present, he drawled the name or familiarsobriquet of each in turn, till all had admitted they were personallyin attendance. 

"Ahem, " said Jim, at the end of this impressive ceremony. "Now we'llsing a hymn. What hymn do you fellows prefer?"

There was not a great confusion of replies; in fact, the confusionresulted from a lack thereof. 

"As no one indicates a preference, " announced the miner, "we'll tackle'Darling, I am growing old. ' Are there any objections? All infavor?--contrary minded?--the motion prevails. Now, then, alltogether--'Darling--'Why don't you all git in?"

"How does she go?" inquired Webber. 

"She goes like this, " Jim replied, clearing his throat:

 "'Darling, I am growing o-old, Silver bars among the gold; Shine upon--te dum te dumpty-- Far from the old folks at home. '"

"Don't know it, " said a voice. 

"Neither do I. "

"Nor I. "

"Nor I. "

The sheep of the flock all followed in a chorus of "Nor I's. "

"What's the matter with 'Swing Low, Sweet Cheery O'?" inquired Lufkins. 

"Suits me, " Jim replied. "Steam up. "

He and the teamster, in duet, joined very soon by all the congregation, sang over and over the only lines they could conjure back to memory, and even these came forth in remarkable variety. For the greater part, however, the rough men were fairly well united on the simple version:

 "'Swing low, sweet cheery O, Comin' for to carry me home; Swing low, sweet cheery O, Comin' for to carry me home. '"

This was sung no less than seven times, when Jim at length lifted hishand for the end. 

"We'll follow this up with the Lord's Prayer, " he said. 

Laying his big, freckled hand on the shoulder of the wondering littlepilgrim, seated so quietly upon the anvil, he closed his eyes and bowedhis head. How thin, but kindly, was his rugged face as the lines weresoftened by his attitude!

He began with hesitation. The prayer, indeed, was a stumbling towardsthe long-forgotten--the wellnigh unattainable. 

 "'Our Father which art in heaven . . . Our Father which art in heaven--'

"Now, hold on, just a minute, " and he paused to think before resumingand wiped his suddenly sweating brow. 

 "'Our Father which art in heaven-- If I should die before I wake . . . Give us our daily bread. Amen. '"

The men all sat in silence. Then Keno whispered, so loudly that everyone could hear;

"By jinks! I didn't think he could do it!"

"We'll now have another hymn, " announced the leader, "There used to beone that went on something about, 'I'm lost and far away from theshack, and it's dark, and lead me--somewhere--kindly light. ' Any oneremember the words all straight?"

"I don't, " replied the blacksmith, "but I might come in on the chorus. "

"Seems to me, " said Bone, "a candle or just a plain, unvarnished light, would 'a' went out. It must have bin a lantern. "

"Objection well taken, " responded Jim, gravely. "I reckon I got itturned 'round a minute ago. It was more like:

 "'Lead me on, kindly lantern, For I am far from home, And the night is dark. '"

"It don't sound like a song--not exactly, " ventured Lufkins. "Why notgive 'em 'Down on the Swanee River'?"

"All right, " agreed the "parson, " and therefore they were all presentlysinging at the one perennial "hymn" of the heart, universal in itsapplication, sweetly religious in its humanism. They sang it with awoful lack of its own original lines; they put in string on string of"dum te dums, " but it came from their better natures and it sanctifiedthe dingy shop. 

When it was ended, which was not until it had gone through persistentrepetitions, old Jim was prepared for almost anything. 

"I s'pose you boys want a regular sermon, " said he, "and if only I'd'a' had the time--wal, I won't say what a torch-light procession of asermon you'd have got, but I'll do the best I can. "

He cleared his throat, struck an attitude inseparable from Americanelocution, and began:

"Fellow-citizens--and ladies and gentlemen--we--we're an ornary lot ofbackwoods fellers, livin' away out here in the mountains and the brush, but God Almighty 'ain't forgot us, all the same. He sent a littleyoungster once to put a heartful of happiness into men, and He's sentthis little skeezucks here to show us boys we ain't shut off fromeverything. He didn't send us no bonanza--like they say they've got inSilver Treasury--but I wouldn't trade the little kid for all thebullion they will ever melt. We ain't the prettiest lot of ducks Iever saw, and we maybe blow the ten commandants all over the camp withgiant powder once in a while, lookin' 'round for gold, but, boys, weain't throwed out complete. We've got the love and pity of GodAlmighty, sure, when he gives us, all to ourselves, a little helplessfeller for to raise. I know you boys all want me to thank the Fatherof us all, and that's what I do. And I hope He'll let us know the wayto give the little kid a good square show, for Christ's sake. Amen. "

The men would have listened to more. They expected more, indeed, andwaited to hear old Jim resume. 

"That's about all, " he said, as no one spoke, "except, of course, we'llsing some more of the hymns and take up collection. I guess we'dbetter take collection first. "

The congregation stirred. Big hands went down into pockets. 

"Who gets the collection?" queried Field. 

Jim drawled, "When it ain't buttons, it goes to the parson; when it is, the parson's wife gits in. "

"You 'ain't got no wife, " objected Bone. 

"That's why there ain't goin' to be no buttons, " sagely answered theminer. "On the square, though, boys, this is all for the littleskeezucks, to buy some genuine milk, from Miss Doc Dennihan's goat. "

"What we goin' to put our offerings into?" asked the blacksmith, as theboys made ready with their contributions. "They used to hand around apie-plate when I was a boy. "

"We'll try to get along with a hat, " responded Jim, "and Keno here canpass it 'round. I've often observed that a hat is a handy thing tocollect things in, especially brains. "

So the hat went quickly from one to another, sagging more and more inthe crown as it travelled. 

The men had come forward to surround the anvil, with the tiny littlechap upon its massive top, and not one in all the groups was there whodid not feel that, left alone with the timid bit of a pilgrim, he couldget him to talking and laughing in the briefest of moments. 

The hymns with which old Jim had promised the meeting should concludewere all but forgotten. Two or three miners, whose hunger for song wasnot to be readily appeased, kept bringing the subject to the foreagain, however, till at length they were heard. 

"We're scarin' little Skeezucks, anyhow, " said the brawny smith, oncemore reviving the fire in the forge. 

"Let's sing 'In the Sweet By-and-By, ' if all of us know it, " suggesteda young fellow scarcely more than a lad. "It's awful easy. "

"Wal, you start her bilin', " replied the teamster. 

The young fellow blushed, but he nerved himself to the point and sangout, nervously at first, and then, when his confidence increased, in aclear, ringing tenor of remarkable purity, recalling the old-time wordsthat once were so widely known and treasured:

 "'There's a land that is fairer than day, And by faith we can see it afar, For the Father waits over the way To prepare us a dwelling-place there. '"

Then the chorus of voices, husky from neglect and crude from lack ofculture, joined in the chorus, with a heartiness that shook the dingybuilding:

 "'In the sweet by-and-by, We shall meet on that beautiful shore; In the sweet by-and-by, We shall meet on that beautiful shore. '"

They followed this with what they knew of "Home, Sweet Home, " and so atlast strolled out into the sunshine of the street, and surrounded thequaint little foundling, as he looked from one to another in babygravity and sat in his timid way on the arm of "Bruvver Jim. "

"I'll tell you what, " said the blacksmith, "now that we've found thatwe can do the job all right, we'll get up a Christmas for littleSkeezucks that will lift the mountains clean up off the earth!"

"Good suggestion, " Jim agreed. "But the little feller feels tired now. I am goin' to take him home. "

And this he did. But after lunch no fewer than twenty of the men ofBorealis climbed up the trail to get another look at the quiet littleman who glorified the cabin. 

But the darkness had only begun to creep through the lowermost channelsof the canyons when Skeezucks fell asleep. By then old Jim, the pup, and Keno were alone with the child. 

"Keno, I reckon I'll wander quietly down and see if Doc will let me buya little milk, " said Jim. "You'd better come along to see that hissister don't interfere. "

Keno expressed his doubts immediately, not only as to the excellence ofgoat's milk generally, but likewise as to any good that he could do byjoining Jim in the enterprise suggested. 

"Anyway, " he concluded, "Doc has maybe went on shift by this time. He's workin' nights this week again. "

Jim, however, prevailed. "You don't get another bite of grub in thisshack, nor another look at the little boy, if you don't come ahead anddo your share. "

Therefore they presently departed, shutting Tintoretto in the cabin to"watch. "

In half an hour, having interviewed Doc Dennihan himself on thehill-side quite removed from his cabin, the two worthies came climbingup towards their home once again, Jim most carefully holding in hishands a large tin cup with half an inch of goat's milk at the bottom. 

While still a hundred yards from the house, they were suddenly startledby the mad descent upon them of the pup they had recently left behind. 

"Huh! you young galoot, " said Jim. "You got out, I see!"

When he entered the cabin it was dark. Keno lighted the candle and Jimput his cup on the table. Then he went to the berth to awaken the tinyfoundling and give him a supper of bread and milk. 

Keno heard him make a sound as of one in terrible pain. 

The miner turned a face, deadly white, towards the table. 

"Keno, " he cried, "he's gone!"

CHAPTER VIII

OLD JIM DISTRAUGHT

For a moment Keno failed to comprehend. Then for a second after thathe refused to believe. He ran to the bunk where Jim was desperatelyturning down the blankets and made a quick examination of that as wellas of the other beds. 

They were empty. 

Hastening across the cabin, the two men searched in the berths at thefarther end with parental eagerness, but all in vain, the pup meantimedodging between their legs and chewing at their trousers. 

"Tintoretto!" said Jim, in a flash of deduction. "He must have got outwhen somebody opened the door. Somebody's been here and stole mylittle boy!"

"By jinks!" said Keno, hauling at his sleeves in excess of emotion. "But who?"

"Come on, " answered Jim, distraught and wild. "Come down to camp!Somebody's playin' us a trick!"

Again they shut the pup inside, and then they fairly ran down thetrail, through the darkness, to the town below. 

A number of men were standing in the street, among them the teamsterand Field, the father of Borealis. They were joking, laughing, wastingtime. 

"Boys, " cried Jim, as he hastened towards the group, "has any one seenlittle Skeezucks? Some one's played a trick and took him off!Somebody's been to the cabin and stole my little boy!"

"Stole him?" said Field. "Why, where was you and Keno?"

"Down to Doc's to get some milk. He wanted bread and milk, " Jimexplained, in evident anguish. "You fellows might have seen, if anyone fetched him down the trail. You're foolin'. Some of you took himfor a joke!"

"It wouldn't be no joke, " answered Lufkins, the teamster. "We 'ain'tgot him, Jim, on the square. "

"Of course we 'ain't got him. We 'ain't took him for no joke, " saidField. "Nobody'd take him away like that. "

"Why don't we ring the bar of steel we used for a bell, " suggested oneof the miners. "That would fetch the men--all who 'ain't gone back onshift. "

"Good idea, " said Field. "But I ought to get back home and eat somedinner. "

He did not, however, depart. That Jim was in a fever of excitement anddespair they could all of them see. He hastened ahead of the group tothe shop of Webber. And taking a short length of iron chain, which hefound on the earth, he slashed and beat at the bar of steel withfrantic strength. 

The sharp, metallic notes rang out with every stroke. The bar wasswaying like a pendulum. Blow after blow the man delivered, fillingall the hollows of the hills with wild alarm. 

Out of saloons and houses men came sauntering, or running, according tothe tension of their nerves. Many thought some house must be afire. At least thirty men were presently gathered at the place of summons. With five or six informers to tell the news of Jim's bereavement, allwere soon aware of what was making the trouble. But none had seen thetiny foundling since they bade him good-bye in the charge of Jimhimself. 

"Are you plum dead sure he's went?" said Webber, the smith. "Did youlook all over the cabin?"

"Everywhere, " said Jim. "He's gone!"

"Wal, maybe some mystery got him, " suggested Bone. "Jim, you don'tsuppose his father, or some one who lost him, come and nabbed him whileyou was gone?"

They saw old Jim turn pale in the light that came from across thestreet. 

Keno broke in with an answer. 

"By jinks! Jim was his mother! Jim had more good rights to the littlefeller than anybody, livin' or dead!"

"You bet!" agreed a voice. 

Jim spoke with difficulty. 

"If any one did that"--he faltered--"why, boys, he never should havelet me find him in the brush. "

"Are you plum dead sure he's went?" insisted the blacksmith, whom thenews had somewhat stunned. 

"I thought perhaps you fellows might have played a joke--taken him offto see me run around, " said Jim, with a faint attempt at a smile. "'Ain't you got him, boys--all the time?"

"Aw, no, he'd be too scared, " said Bone. "We know he'd be scared ofany one of us. "

"It ain't so much that, " said Field, "but I shouldn't wonder if hisfather, or some other feller just as good, came and took him off. "

"Of course his father would have the right, " said Jim, haltingly, "but--I wish he hadn't let me find him first. You fellows are sure youain't a-foolin'?"

"We couldn't have done it--not on Sunday--after church, " said Lufkins. "No, Jim, we wouldn't fool that way. "

"You don't s'pose that Parky might have took him, out of spite?" saidJim, eager for hope in any direction whatsoever. 

"No! He hates kids worse than pizen, " said the barkeep, decisively. "He's been a-gamblin' since four this afternoon, dealin' faro-bank. "

"We could go and search every shack in camp, " suggested a listener. 

"What would be the good of that?" inquired Field. "If the father cameand took the little shaver, do you think he'd hide him 'round here insomebody's cabin?"

The blacksmith said: "It don't seem as if you could have looked allover the house. He's such a little bit of a skeezucks. "

Keno told him how they had searched in every bunk, and how the milk waswaiting on the table, and how the pup had escaped when some one openedthe door. 

The men all volunteered to go up on the hill with torches and lanterns, to see if the trail of the some one who had done this deed might not bediscovered. Accordingly, the lights were secured and the party climbedthe slope. All of them entered the cabin and heard the explanation ofexactly how old Jim had found that the little chap was gone. 

Webber was one of the number. To satisfy his incredulous mind, hesearched every possible and impossible lurking-place where an object assmall as a ball could be concealed. 

"I guess he's went, " he agreed, at last. 

Then out on the hill-side went the crowd, and breaking up in groups, each with its lanterns and torches, they searched the rock-strewn slopeIn every direction. The wavering lights went hither and yon, revealingnow the faces of the anxious men, and then prodigious features of aclump of granite bowlders, jewelled with mica, sparkling in the light. 

Intensely the darkness hedged the groups about. The sounds of theirvoices and of rocks that crunched beneath their boots alone disturbedthe great, eternal calm; but the search was vain. The searchers hadknown it could be of no avail, for the puny foot of man could have madeno track upon the slanted floor of granite fragments that constitutedthe hill-side. It was something to do for Jim, and that was all. 

At length, about midnight, it came to an end. They lingered on theslope, however, to offer their theories, invariably hopeful, and to saythat Monday morning would accomplish miracles in the way of settingeverything aright. 

Many were supperless when all save Jim and little Keno had againreturned to Borealis and left the two alone at the cabin. 

"We'll save the milk in case he might come home by any chance, " saidthe gray old miner, and he placed the cup on a shelf against the wall. 

In silence he cooked the humble dinner, which he placed on the table infront of his equally voiceless companion. Keno and the pup went at themeal with unpoetic vigor, but Jim could do no eating. He went to thedoor from time to time to listen. Then he once more searched theblankets in the bunks. 

"Wal, anyway, " said he, at last, "he took his doll. "

CHAPTER IX

THE GUILTY MISS DOC

That Keno and Tintoretto should sleep was inevitable, after the waythey had eaten. Old Jim then took his lantern and went out alone. Perhaps his tiny foundling had wandered away by himself, he thought. Searching and searching, up hill and down, lighting his way through thebrush, the miner went on and on, to leave no spot unvisited. He wasout all night, wandering here and climbing there on the hillside, pausing now and again to listen and to look about, almost expectantly, where naught could be seen save the mighty procession of the stars, andnaught could be heard save the ringing of the inter-stellar silence asthe earth swung steadily onward in her course. 

Hour after hour of the darkness went by and found him searching still. With the coming of the morning he suddenly grasped at a startlingthought. 

Miss Doc!--Miss Dennihan! She must have stolen his foundling!

Her recent climb to his cabin, her protracted stay, her baffledcuriosity--these were ample explanation for the trick she must haveplayed! How easily she might have watched the place, slipped in themoment the cabin was left unguarded, and carried off the little pilgrim!

Jim knew she would glory in such a revenge. She probably cared not awhit for the child, but to score against himself, for defeating herpurpose when she called, she would doubtless have gone to any possiblelength. 

The miner was enraged, but a second later a great gush of thankfulnessand relief surged upward in his heart. At least, the little man wouldnot have been out all night in the hills! Then growing sick in turn, he thought this explanation would be too good to be true. It wasmadness--only a hope! He clung to it tenaciously, however, then gaveit up, only to snatch it back again in desperation as he hastened hometo his cabin. 

"Keno, wake up, " he cried to his lodger, shaking him briskly by theshoulder. "Keno! Keno!"

"What's the matter? Time for breakfast?" asked Keno, drowsily, riskingonly half an eye with which to look about. "Why not call me gently?"

"Get up!" commanded Jim. "I have thought of where little Skeezucks hasgone!"

"Where?" cried Keno, suddenly aroused. "I'll go and kill the cuss thattook him off!"

"Miss Doc!" replied the miner. "Miss Doc!"

"Miss Doc?" repeated Keno, weakly, pausing in the act of pulling on hisboots. "By jinks! Say, I couldn't kill no woman, Jim. How do youknow?"

"Stands to reason, " Jim replied, and explaining his premises rapidlyand clearly, he punched poor Keno into something almost as good asactivity. 

"By jinks! I can't believe it, " said Keno, who did believe it withfearful thoroughness. "Jim, she wouldn't dare, an' us two fellersliable to bust her house to pieces. "

"Don't you know she'd be dead sure to play a trick like that?" saidJim, who could not bear to listen to a doubt. "Don't you see shecouldn't do anything else, bein' a woman?"

"Maybe--maybe, " answered Keno, with a sort of acquiescence that isdeadlier than an out-and-out denial. "But--I wouldn't want to see youdisappointed, Jim--I wouldn't want to see it. "

"Wal, you come on, that's all, " said Jim. "If it ain't so--I want toknow it early in the day!"

"But--what can I do?" still objected Keno. "Wouldn't you rather I'dstay home and git the breakfast?"

"We don't want any breakfast if she 'ain't got the little boy. Youcome on!"

Keno came; so did Tintoretto. The three went down the slope as the sunlooked over the rim of the mountains. The chill and crispness of theair seemed a part of those early rays of light. 

In sight of the home of Doc and Miss Dennihan, they paused and steppedbehind a fence, for the door of the neat little house was open and thelady herself was sweeping off the steps, with the briskness inseparablefrom her character. 

She presently disappeared, but the door, to Jim's relief, was leftstanding open. He proceeded boldly on his course. 

"Now, I'll stay outside and hold the pup, " said Keno. 

"If anything goes wrong, you let the pup go loose, " instructed Jim. "He might distract her attention. "

Thereupon he went in at the creaking little garden gate, and, leavingit open, knocked on the door and entered the house. He had hardly morethan come within the room when Miss Doc appeared from her kitchen. 

"Mercy in us, if you ain't up before your breakfast!" she said. "Whatever do you want in my house at this time of mornin', you Jimlazy-joints?"

"You know what I came for, " said Jim. "I want my little boy. "

"Your little boy?" she echoed. "I never knowed you had no little boy. You never said nuthin' 'bout no little boy when I was up to your cabin. "

Jim's heart, despite his utmost efforts to be hopeful, was sinking. 

"You know I found a little kid, " he said, less aggressively. "And someone's taken him off--stole him--that's what they've done, and I'll beta bit it's you!"

"Wal, if I ever!" cried Miss Doc, her eyes lighting up dangerously. "Did you come down here to tell me right to my face I stole from yourdirty little shanty?"

"I want my little boy, " said Jim. 

"Wal, you git out of my house, " commanded Miss Doc. "If John was upyou'd never dare to stay here another minute. You clear out!A-callin' me a thief!"

Jim's hope collapsed in his bosom. The taking of the child he couldgladly have forgiven. Any excuse would have satisfied hisanger--anything was bearable, save to know that he had come on a falsebelief. 

"Miss Doc, " he said, "I only want the little kid. Don't say he ain'there. "

"Tellin' me I'd steal!" she said, in her indignation. "You shiftless, good-for-nothin'--" But she left her string of epithets incompleted, all on account of an interruption in the shape of Tintoretto. 

Keno had made up his mind that everything was going wrong, and he hadloosed the pup. 

Bounding in at the door, that enthusiastic bit of awkwardness and goodintentions jumped on the front of Miss Doc's dress, gave a lick at herhand, scooted back to his master, and wagged himself against thetables, chairs, and walls with clumsy dexterity. Sniffing and bumpinghis nose on the carpet, he pranced through the door to the kitchen. 

Almost immediately Jim heard the sound of something being bowled overon the floor--something being licked--something vainly striving withthe over-affectionate pup, and then there came a coo of joy. 

"There he is!" cried Jim, and before Miss Doc could lift so much ashand or voice to restrain him, he had followed Tintoretto and fallen onhis knees by the side of his lost little foundling, who was helplesslystraddled by the pup, and who, for the first time, dropped his doll ashe held out his tiny arms to be taken. 

"My little boy!" said the miner--"my little boy!" and taking both dolland little man in his arms he held them in passionate tendernessagainst his heart. 

"How da'st you come in my kitchen with your dirty boots?" demanded MissDennihan, in all her unabashed pugnacity. 

"It's all right, little Skeezucks, " said Jim to the timid littlepilgrim, who was clinging to his collar with all the strength of ababy's new confidence and hope. "Did you think old brother Jim waslost? Did you want to go home and get some bread and milk?"

"He ain't a bit hungry. He didn't want nuthin' to eat, " said Miss Doc, in self-defence. "And you ain't no more fit to have that there childthan a--"

"Goin' to have him all the same, " old Jim interrupted, starting for thedoor. "You stole him--that's what you did!"

"I didn't do no sech thing, " said the housewife. "I jest nachellyborrowed him--jest for over night. And now you've got him, I hopeyou're satisfied. And you kin jest clear out o' my house, do you hear?And I can't scrub and sweep too soon where your lazy, dirty old bootshas been on the floor!"

"Wal, " drawled Jim, "I can't throw away these boots any too soon, neither. I wouldn't wear a pair of boots which had stepped on anyfloor of yours. "

He therefore left the house at once, even as the lady began her violentsweeping. Interrupting Keno's mad chortles of joy at sight of littleSkeezucks, Jim gave him the tiny man for a moment's keeping, and, taking off his boots, threw them down before Miss Dennihan's gate inextravagant pride. 

Then once more he took his little man on his arm and started away. Butwhen he had walked a half-dozen rods, on the rocks that indented thetender soles of his stockinged feet, he was stepping with gingerlyuncertainty. He presently came to a halt. The ground was not onlylumpy, it was cold. 

"I'll tell you what, " he slowly drawled, "in this little world there'sabout one chance in a million for a man to make a President of himself, and about nine hundred and ninety-nine chances in a thousand for him tomake a fool of himself. "

"That's what I thought, " said Keno. 

"All the same, if only I had the resolution I'd leave them boots thereforever!"

"What for?" said Keno. 

"Wal, " drawled Jim, "a man can't always tell he comes of a proud familyby the cut of his clothes. But, Keno, you ain't troubled with pride, so you go back and fetch me the boots. "

Then, when he presently drew his cowhide casings on, he sat for amoment enjoying the comfort of those soles beneath his feet. For thetime that they halted where they were, he held his rescued little boyto his heart in an ecstasy such as he never had dreamed could be givento a man. 

CHAPTER X

PREPARATIONS FOR CHRISTMAS

When the word spread 'round that Jim and the quaint little foundlingwere once more united, the story of the episode at Miss Doc's homenecessarily followed to make the tale complete. Immensely relieved andgrateful, to know that no dire calamity had befallen the camp's firstand only child, the rough men nevertheless lost no time in conceivingthe outcome to be fairly amusing. 

"You kin bet that Doc was awake all the time, and listenin', as long asJim was there, " said Bone, "but six yoke of oxen couldn't 'a' draggedhis two eyes open, or him out of bed, to mingle in the ceremonies. "

To prevent a recurrence of similar descents upon his household, Jimarranged his plans in such a manner that the timid little Skeezucksshould never again be left alone. Indeed, the gray old miner hardlyever permitted the little chap to be out of his sight. Hour by hour, day by day, he remained at his cabin, playing with the child, tellinghim stories, asking him questions, making him promises of all thewonderful toys and playthings he would manufacture soon. 

Once in a while the little fellow spoke. That utterance came withdifficulty to his lips was obvious. He must always have been a silent, backward little fellow, and sad, as children rarely become at an age sotender. Of who or what he was he gave no clew. He seemed to have noreal name, to remember no parents, to feel no confidence in anythingsave "Bruvver Jim" and Tintoretto. 

In the course of a week a number of names had been suggested for thetiny bit of a stranger, but none could suit the taste of Jim. Hewaited still for a truant inspiration, and meanwhile "Skeezucks" camedaily more and more into use among the men of Borealis. 

It was during this time that a parcel arrived at the cabin from thehome of Miss Doc. It was fetched to the hill by Doc himself, who saidit was sent by his sister. He departed at once, to avoid thediscussion which he felt its contents might occasion. 

On tearing it open old Jim was not a little amazed to discover a lot oflittle garments, fashioned to the size of tiny Skeezucks, with all theskill which lies--at nature's second thought--in the hand of woman. Neat little undergarments, white little frocks, a something that theminer felt by instinct was a "nightie, " and two pairs of the smallestof stockings rewarded the overhauling of the package, and left Jimmomentarily speechless. 

"By jinks!" said Keno, pulling down his sleeves, "them are awful smallfer us!"

"If only I had the time, " drawled Jim, "I'd take 'em back to Miss Docand throw them in her yard. We don't need anybody sewin' for littleSkeezucks. I was meanin' to make him somethin' better than thesemyself. "

"Oh!" said Keno. "Well, we could give 'em to the pup. He'd like toplay with them little duds. "

"No; I'll try 'em on the little boy tonight, " reflected Jim, "and then, if we find they ain't a fit, why, I'll either send 'em back or cut 'emapart and sew 'em all over and make 'em do. "

But once he had tried them on, their fate was sealed. They remained asmuch a part of the tiny man as did his furry doll. Indeed, they werepresently almost forgotten, for December being well advanced, the onegreat topic of conversation now was the Christmas celebration to beheld for the camp's one little child. 

Ten of the big, rough citizens had come one evening to the cabin on thehill, to settle on some of the details of what they should do. Thetiny pilgrim, whom they all regarded so fondly, had gone to sleep andJim had placed him in his bunk. In the chimney a glowing fire droveaway the chill of the wintry air. 

"Speakin' of catfish, of course we'll hang up his stockin', " saidField. "Christmas wouldn't be no Christmas without a stockin'. "

"Stockin'!" echoed the blacksmith. "We'll have to hang up aminin'-shaft, I reckon, for to hold all the things. "

"I'm goin' to make him a kind of kaliderscope myself, or maybe two orthree, " said one modest individual, stroking his chin. 

Dunn, the most unworkman-like carpenter that ever built a crookedhouse, declared it was his intention to fashion a whole set ofalphabetical blocks of prodigious size and unearthly beauty. 

"Well, I can't make so much in the way of fancy fixin's, but you jestwait and see, " said another. 

The blacksmith darkly hinted at wonders evolving beneath the curlyabundance of his hair, and Lufkins likewise kept his purposes tohimself. 

"I s'pose we'd ought to have a tree, " said Jim. "We could make aChristmas-tree look like the Garden of Eden before Mrs. Adam began toeat the ornaments. "

"That's the ticket, " Webber agreed. "That's sure the boss racket ofthem all. "

"We couldn't git no tree into this shanty, " objected Field. "Thisplace ain't big enough to hold a Christmas puddin'. "

"Of course it is, " said the carpenter. "It's ten foot ten by eighteenfoot six inches, or I can't do no guessin'. "

"That 'mount of space couldn't hold jest me, on Christmas, " estimatedthe teamster. 

"And the whole camp sure will want to come, " added another. 

"'Ceptin' Miss Doc, " suggested Webber. 

"'Ceptin' Miss Doc, " agreed the previous speaker. 

"Then why not have the tree down yonder, into Webber's shop, same aschurch?" asked Field. "We could git the whole camp in there. "

This was acclaimed a thought of genius. 

"It suits me down to the ground, " said Jim, with whom all ultimatedecision lay, by right of his foster-parenthood of little Skeezucks, "only I don't see so plain where we're goin' to git the tree. We'reburnin' all the biggest brush around Borealis, and there ain't agenuine Christmas-tree in forty miles. "

The truth of this observation fell like a dampened blanket on all thecompany. 

"That's so, " said Webber. "That's just the luck!"

"There's a bunch of willers and alders by the spring, " suggested ahopeful person. 

"You pore, pitiful cuss, " said Field. "You couldn't have seen noChristmas-tree in all your infancy. "

"If only I had the time, " drawled Jim, "I'd go across to the Pinyonmountains and git a tree. Perhaps I can do that yet. "

"If you'd do that, Jim, that would be the biggest present of the lot, "said Webber. "You wouldn't have to do nuthin' more. "'

"Wal, I'm goin' to make a Noah's ark full of animals, anyway, " saidJim. "Also a few cars and boats and a big tin horn--if only I've gotthe activity. "

"But we'll reckon on you for the tree, " insisted the blacksmith. "Then, of course, we want a great big Christmas dinner. "

"What are you goin' to do fer a turkey?" inquired Field. 

"And rich brown gravy?" added the carpenter. 

"And cranberry sauce and mince-pie?" supplemented Lufkins. 

"Well, maybe we could git a rabbit for the turkey, " answered the smith. 

"And, by jinks! I kin make a lemon-pie that tastes like a chunkdropped out of heaven, " volunteered Keno, pulling at his sleeves. 

"But what about that rich brown gravy?" queried the carpenter. 

"Smoky White can dish up the slickest dough-nuts you ever slapped yourlip onto, " informed the modest individual who stroked his chin. 

"We can have pertatoes and beans and slapjacks on the side, " a hopefulminer reminded the company. 

"You bet. Don't you worry; we can trot out a regular banquet, " Fieldassured them, optimistically. "S'posen we don't have turkey andcranberry sauce and a big mince-pie?"

"I'd like that rich brown gravy, " murmured the carpenter--"good andthick and rich and brown. "

"We could rig up a big, long table in the shop, " planned theblacksmith, "and put a hundred candles everywhere, and have the treeall blazin' with lights, and you bet things would be gorgeous. "

"If we git the tree, " said Lufkins. 

"And the rabbit fer a turkey, " added a friend. 

"Well, by jinks! you'll git the lemon-pie all right, if you don't gitnuthin' else, " declared little Keno. 

"If only I can plan it out I'll fetch the tree, " said Jim. "I'd liketo do that for the little boy. "

"Jim's an awful clever ole cuss, " said Field, trusting to work somebenefit by a judicious application of flattery. "It ain't every manwhich knows the kind of a tree to chop. Not all trees isChristmas-trees. But ole Jim is a clever ole duck, you bet. "

"Wal, " drawled Jim, "I never suspect my own intelligence till a manbegins to tell me I'm a clever old duck. Still, I reckon I ain'tover-likely to cut no cherry-trees over to the Pinyon hills. "

"The celebration's comin' to a head in bully style, that's the mainconcern, " said the teamster. "I s'pose we'd better begin to invite allthe boys?"

"If all of 'em come, " suggested a listener, "that one jack-rabbitsettin' up playin' turkey will look awful sick. "

"I'd hate to git left on the gravy, " added the carpenter--"if there'sgoin' to be any gravy. "

"Aw, we'll have buckets of grub, " said the smith. "We'll ask 'em allto 'please bring refreshments, ' same as they do in families where theynever git a good square meal except at surprise-parties and birthdayblow-outs. Don't you fear about the feed. "

"Well, we ought to git the jig to goin', " suggested Field. "Lots ofthe boys needs a good fair warnin' when they're goin' to tackle cookin'grub for a Christmas dinner. I vote we git out of here and go downhill and talk the racket up. "

This motion was carried at once. The boys filed out with heartygood-nights, and wended their way down the slope, with the bite of thefrosted air at their ears. 

Then Jim, at the very thought of travelling forty miles to fetch a treefor Christmas gayeties, sat down before his fire to take a rest. 

CHAPTER XI

TROUBLES AND DISCOVERIES

For the next ten days the talk of the camp was the coming celebration. Moreover, man after man was surrounding himself with mysteryimpenetrable, as he drew away in his shell, so to speak, to undergocertain throes of invention and secret manufacture of presents for thetiny boy at the cabin on the hill. Knowing nods, sly winks, andjealous guarding of their cleverness marked the big, rough fellows oneby one. And yet some of the most secretive felt a necessity forconsulting Jim as to what was appropriate, what would please littleSkeezucks, and what was worthy to be tied upon the tree. 

That each and every individual thus laboring to produce his offeringshould be eager to excel his neighbor, and to win the greatestappreciation from the all-unknowing little pilgrim for his ownparticular toy or trinket, was a natural outcome of the Christmasspirit actuating the manoeuvres. And all the things they could givewould have to be made, since there was not a shop in a radius of ahundred miles where baubles for youngsters could be purchased, whileBorealis, having never had a baby boy before in all its sudden annalsof being, had neglected all provision for the advent of tiny Skeezucks. 

The carpenter came to the cabin first, with a barley-sack filled withthe blocks he had made for the small foundling's Christmas ecstasy. Before he would show them, however, Keno was obliged to leave the houseand the tiny pilgrim himself was placed in a bunk from which he couldnot see. 

"I want to surprise him, " explained the carpenter. 

He then dumped out his blocks. 

As lumber was a luxury in Borealis, he had been obliged to make whatshift he could. In consequence of this the blocks were of severalsizes, a number were constructed of several pieces of board nailedtogether--and split in the process--no two were shaped alike, exceptfor generalities, and no one was straight. However, they were largerthan a man's two fists, they were gaudily painted, and the alphabet wassprinkled upon them with prodigal generosity. There were evenhieroglyphics upon them, which the carpenter described as birds andanimals. They were certainly more than any timid child could ever havedemanded. 

"Them's it, " said Dunn, watching the face of Jim with what modest pridethe situation would permit. "Now, what I want you to do is to give mea genuine, candid opinion of the work. "

"Wal, I'll tell you, " drawled the miner, "whenever a man asks you for acandid opinion, that's the time to fill your shovel with guff. It'sthe only safe proceedin'. So I won't fool around with candid opinions, Dunn, I'll just admit they are jewels. Cut my diamonds if they ain't!"

"I kind of thought so myself, " confessed the carpenter. "But I thoughtas you was a first-class critic, why, I'd like to hear what you'd say. "

"No, I ain't no critic, " Jim replied. "A critic is a feller who cansay nastier things than anybody else about things that anybody else cando a heap sight better than he can himself. "

"Well, I do reckon, as who shouldn't say so, that nobody livin' intoBorealis but me could 'a' made them blocks, " agreed Dunn, returning thelot to his sack. "But I jest wanted to hear you say so, Jim, fer youand me has had an eddication which lots of cusses into camp 'ain'tnever got. Not that it's anything agin 'em, but--you know how it is. I'll bet the little shaver will like them better'n anything else he'llgit. "

"Oh, he'll like 'em in a different way, " agreed the miner. "No doubtabout that. "

And when the carpenter had gone old Jim took his little foundling fromthe berth and sat him on his knee. 

In the tiny chap's arms the powder-flask-and-potato doll was firmlyheld. The face of the lady had wrinkled with a premature descent ofage upon her being. One of her eyes had disappeared, while hersoot-made mouth had been wiped across her entire countenance. 

The quaint bit of a boy was dressed, as usual, in the funny littletrousers that came to his heels, while his old fur cap had been kept inrequisition for the warmth it afforded his ears. He cuddledconfidingly against his big, rough protector, but he made no sound ofspeaking, nor did anything suggestive of a smile come to play upon hisgrave little features. 

Jim had told him of Christmas by the hour--all the beauty of the story, so old, so appealing to the race of man, who yearns towards everythingaffording a brightness of hope and a faith in anything human. 

"What would little Skeezucks like for his Christmas?" the man inquired, for the twentieth time. 

The little fellow pressed closer against him, in baby shyness andslowly answered:

"Bruv-ver--Jim. "

The miner clasped him tenderly against his heart. Yet he had butscanty intimation of the all the tiny pilgrim meant. 

He sat with him throughout that day, however, as he had so many ofthese fleeting days. The larder was neglected; the money contributedat "church" had gone at once, to score against a bill at the store, aslarge as the cabin itself, and only the labors of Keno, chopping brushfor fuel, kept the home supplied even with a fire. Jim had been bornbeneath the weight of some star too slow to move along. 

When Keno came back to the cabin from his work in the brush it was wellalong in the afternoon. Jim decided to go below and stock up thepantry with food. On arriving at the store, however, he met a newmanner of reception. 

The gambler, Parky, was in charge, as a recent purchaser of the wholeconcern. 

"You can't git no more grub-stake here without the cash, " he said toJim. "And now you've come, you can pony up on the bill you 'ain't yetsquared. "

"So?" said Jim. 

"You bet your boots it's so, and you can't begin to pungle up a minutetoo soon!" was the answer. 

"I reckon you'd ask a chicken to pungle up the gravel in his gizzard ifyou thought he'd picked up a sliver of gold, " Jim drawled, in his lazyutterance. "And an ordinary chicken, with the pip thrown in, couldpungle twice to my once. "

"Ain't got the stuff, hey?" said Parky. "Broke, I s'pose? Then maybeyou'll git to work, you old galoot, and stop playin' parson andgoody-goody games. You don't git nothing here without the chink. Soperhaps you'll git to work at last. "

A red-nosed henchman of the gambler's put in a word. 

"I don't see why you 'ain't gone to work, " he said. 

"Don't you?" drawled Jim, leaning on the counter to survey the speaker. "Well, it looks to me as if you found out, long ago, that all work andno play makes a man a Yankee. "

"I ain't no Yankee, you kin bet on that!" said the man. 

"That's pretty near incredible, " drawled Jim. 

"And I ain't neither, " declared the gambler, who boasted of beingCanadian. "Don't you forget that, old boy. "

"No, " Jim slowly replied, "I've often noticed that all that glittersain't American. "

"Well, you can clear out of here and notice how things look outside, "retorted Parky. 

Jim was slowly straightening up when the blacksmith and the teamsterentered the place. They had heard the gambler's order and werethoroughly astounded. No man, howsoever poor and unprepared to pay awretched bill, had ever been treated thus in Borealis before. 

"What's the matter?" said Webber. 

"Nuthin', particularly, " answered Jim, in his slow, monotonous way, "only a difference of opinion. Parky thinks he's brainy, and agentleman--that's all. "

"I can see you don't git another snack of grub in here, my friend, "retorted Parky, adding a number of oaths. "And for just two cents I'dbreak your jaw and pitch you out in the street. "

"Not with your present flow of language, " answered Jim. 

The teamster inquired, "Why don't Jim git any more grub?"

"Because I'm running this joint and he 'ain't got the cash, " saidParky. "You got anything to say about the biz?"

"Jim's got a call on me and my cash, " replied the brawny Webber. "Jim, you tell him what you need, and I'll foot the bill. "

"I'll settle half, myself, " added Lufkins. 

"Thanks, boys, not this evenin', " said Jim, whose pride had singularmoments for coming to the surface. "There's only one time of day whenit's safe to deal with a gambler, and that's thirteen o'clock. "

"I wouldn't sell you nothing, anyway, " said Parky, with a swagger. "Hecouldn't git grub here now for no money--savvy?"

"I wonder why you call it grub, now that it's come into your greasyhands!" drawled the miner, as he slowly started to leave the store. "I'd be afraid you'd deal me a dirty ace of spades instead of a decentslice of bacon. " And, hands in pockets, he sauntered away, vaguelywondering what he should do. 

The blacksmith hung for a moment in the balance of indecision, rapidlythinking. Then he followed where the gray old Jim had gone, andpresently overtook him in the road. 

"Jim, " he said, "what about poor little Skeezucks? Say, I'll tell youwhat we'll do: I'll wait a little, and then send Field to the store andhave him git whatever you need, and pretend it's all for himself. Thenwe'll lug it up the hill and slide it into the cabin slick as a leadtwo-bits. "

"Can't let you do it, " said Jim. 

"Why not?" demanded Webber. 

Jim hesitated before he drawled his reply. 

"If only I had the resolution, " said he, "I wouldn't take nothing thatParky could sell. "

"When we git you once talkin' 'if-only, ' the bluff is called, " repliedthe smith, with a grin. "Now what are you needin' at the shack?"

"You rich fellers want to run the whole shebang, " objected Jim, by wayof an easy capitulation. "There never yet was a feller born with asilver spoon in his mouth that didn't want to put it in every otherfeller's puddin'. . . . I was goin' to buy a can or two of condensedmilk and a slab of bacon and a sack of flour and a bean or two and alittle 'baccy, and a few things about like that. "

"All right, " said the blacksmith, tabulating all these items on hisfingers. "And Field kin look around and see if there ain't some extrysfor little Skeezucks. "

"If only I had the determination I wouldn't accept a thing from Parky'sstock, " drawled the miner, as before. "I'll go to work on the claimand pay you back right off. "

"Kerrect, " answered Webber, as gravely as possible, thinking of thehundred gaudy promises old Jim had made concerning his undeveloped andso far worthless claim. "I hope you'll strike it good and rich. "

"Wal, " drawled Jim; "bad luck has to associate with a little good luckonce in a while, to appear sort of half-way respectable. And myluck--same as any tired feller's--'ain't been right good Sunday-schoolcompany for several years. "

So he climbed back up the hill once more, and, coming to his cabin, hada long, earnest look at the picks, bars, drills, and other implementsof mining, heavy with dust, in the corner. 

"If only the day wasn't practically gone, " said he, "I'd start to workon the claim this afternoon. "

But he touched no tools, and presently instead he took the grave littlefoundling on his knee and told him, all over, the tales the littlefellow seemed most to enjoy. 

When the stock of provisions was finally fetched to the house by Webberhimself, the worthy smith was obliged to explain that part of the moneysupplied to Field for the purchase of the food had been confiscated fordebt at the store. In consequence of this the quantity had been cut toa half its intended dimensions. 

"And the worst of it is, " said the blacksmith, in conclusion, "we allowe a little at the store, and Parky's got suspicious that we'resneakin' things to you. "

Indeed, as he left the house, he saw that certain red-nosed microbe ofa human being attached to the gambler, spying on his visit to the hill. Stopping for a moment to reflect upon the nearness of Christmas and theneedless worry that he might inflict by informing Jim of his discovery, Webber shook his head and went his way, keeping the matter to himself. 

But with food in the house old Jim was again at ease, so much so, indeed, that he quite forgot to begin that promised work upon hisclaim. He had never worked except when dire necessity made resting nolonger possible, and then only long enough to secure the wherewithalfor sufficient food to last him through another period of sittingaround to think. If thinking upon subjects of no importance whatsoeverhad been a lucrative employment, Jim would certainly have accumulatedthe wealth of the whole wide world. 

He took his pick in his hands the following day, but placed it again inits corner, slowly, after a moment's examination of its blunted steel. 

Three days went by. The weather was colder. Bitter winds and frowningclouds were hastening somewhere to a conclave of the wintry elements. It was four days only to Christmas. Neither the promised Noah's ark topresent to tiny Skeezucks nor the Christmas-tree on which the men hadplanned to hang their gifts was one whit nearer to realization than asif they had never been suggested. 

Meantime, once again the food-supply was nearly gone. Keno kept thepile of fuel reasonably high, but cheer was not so prevalent in thecabin as to ask for further room. The grave little pilgrim was just atrifle quieter and less inclined to eat. He caught a cold, as tiny ashimself, but bore its miseries uncomplainingly. In fact, he had nevercried so much as once since his coming to the cabin; and neither had hesmiled. 

In sheer concern old Jim went forth that cold and windy afternoon ofthe day but four removed from Christmas, to make at least a show ofworking on his claim. Keno, Skeezucks, and the pup remained behind, the little red-headed man being busily engaged in some great culinarymystery from which he said his lemon-pie for Christmas should evolve. 

When presently Jim stood beside the meagre post-hole he had made onceupon a time, as a starter for a mining-shaft, he looked at it ruefully. How horridly hard that rock appeared! What a wretched little scar itwas he had made with all that labor he remembered so vividly! What wasthe good of digging here? Nothing!

Dragging his pick, he looked for a softer spot in which to sink thesteel. There were no softer spots. And the pick helve grew sointensely cold! Jim dropped it to the ground, and with hands thrustinto his armpits, for the warmth afforded, he hunched himself dismallyand scanned the prospect with doleful eyes. Why couldn't the hillbreak open, anyhow, and show whether anything worth the having werecontained in its bulk or not?

A last summer's mullen stock, beating incessantly in the wind, seemedthe only thing alive on all that vast outbulging of the earth. Thestunted brush stiffly carded the breeze that blew so persistently. 

From rock to rock the gray old miner's gaze went wandering. Soundisturbed had been the surface of the earth since he had owned theclaim that a shallow channel, sluiced in the earth by a freshet of thespring long past, remained as the waters had cut it. Slowly up thecourse of this insignificant cicatrice old Jim ascended, his handsstill held beneath his arms, his long mustache and his grizzled beardblown awry in the breeze. The pick he left behind. 

Coming thus to a deeper gouge in the sand of the hill, he halted andgazed attentively at a thick seam of rock outcropping sharply where thelong-gone freshet had laid it bare. In mining parlance it was"quartzy. " To Jim it appeared even more. He stooped above it andattempted to break away a fragment with his fingers. At this hefailed. Rubbing off the dust and sand wherewith old mother nature wasbeginning to cover it anew, he saw little spots, at which he scratchedwith his nails. 

"Awful cold it's gittin', " he drawled to himself, and sitting down onthe meagre bank of earth he once more thrust his hands beneath his coatand looked at the outcropping dismally. 

He had doubtless been gone from the cabin half an hour, and not astroke had he given with his pick, when, as he sat there looking at theground, the voice of Keno came on the wind from the door of the shack. Arising, Jim started at once towards his home, leaving his pick on thehill-side a rod or two below. 

"What is it?" he called, as he neared the house. 

"Calamerty!" yelled Keno, and he disappeared within the door. 

Jim almost made haste. 

"What kind of a calamity?" said he, as he entered the room. "What'swent wrong?"

"The lemon-pie!" said Keno, whose face was a study in the art ofexpressing consternation. 

"Oh, " said Jim, instantly relieved, "is that all?"

"All?" echoed Keno. "By jinks! I can't make another before it'sChristmas, to save my neck, and I used all the sugar and nearly all theflour we had. "

"Is it a hopeless case?" inquired Jim. 

"Some might not think so, " poor Keno replied. "I scoured out the oldDutch oven and I've got her in a-bakin', but--"

"Well, maybe she ain't so worse. "

"Jim, " answered Keno, tragically, "I didn't find out till I had herbakin' fine. Then I looked at the bottle I thought was the lemonextract, and, by jinks! what do you think?"

"I don't feel up to the arts of creatin' lemon-pies, " confessed theminer, warming himself before the fire. "What happened?"

"You have to have lemon extract--you know that?" said Keno. 

"All right. "

"Well, by jinks, Jim, it wasn't lemon extract after all! It washair-oil!"

A terrible moment of silence ensued. 

Then Jim said, "Was it all the hair-oil I had?"

"Every drop, " said Keno. 

"Wal, " drawled the miner, sagely, "don't take on too hard. Into eachpicnic some rain must fall. "

"But the boys won't eat it, " answered Keno, inconsolably. 

"You don't know, " replied Jim. "You never can tell what people willeat on Christmas till the follerin' day. They'll take to anything thatlooks real pretty and smells seasonable. What did I do with my pick?"

"You must have left it behind, " said Keno. "You ain't goin' to hit thepie with your pick?"

"Wal, not till Christmas, anyway, Keno, and only then in case we'vebusted all the knives and saws trying to git it apart, " said Jim, reassuringly. 

"Would you keep it, sure, and feed it to 'em all the same?" inquiredKeno, forlornly, eager for a ray of hope. 

"I certainly would, " replied the miner. "They won't know the diffbetween a lemon-pie and a can of tomatoes. So I guess I'll go and gitmy pick. It may come on to snow, and then I couldn't find it till thespring. "

Without the slightest intention of working any more, Jim sauntered backto the place where the pick was lying on the hill and took it up. Bychance he thought of the ledge of quartz above in the rain-sluicedchannel. 

"Might as well hit her a lick, " he drawled to himself, and climbing tothe spot he drove the point of his implement into a crevice of the rockand broke away a piece of two or three pounds in weight. This he tookin his big, red hands, which were numbing in the cold. 

For a moment he looked at the fragment of quartz with unbelieving eyes. He wet it with his tongue. Then a something that answered in Jim toexcitement pumped from his heart abruptly. 

The rock was flecked all through with tiny specks of metal that theminer knew unerringly. 

It was gold. 

CHAPTER XII

THE MAKING OF A CHRISTMAS-TREE

Despite the snow that fell that night, despite the near approach ofChristmas, old Jim's discovery aroused a great excitement in the camp. That very evening the news was known throughout all Borealis, and allnext day, in the driving storm, the hill was visited, the ledge wasviewed, and the topic was discussed at length in all its amazingfeatures. 

Teamsters, miners, loiterers--all, even including the gambler--came topay their homage at the hiding-place of one of Mammon's family. Allthe mountain-side was taken up in claims. The calmest man in all thehills was Jim himself. 

Parky made him an offer without the slightest hesitation. 

"I'll square off your bill at the store, " he said, "and give you ahundred dollars' worth of grub for the claim and prospect just as shestands. "

"Not to-day, " old Jim replied. "I never do no swapping at the other'sfeller's terms when I'm busy. We've got to get ready for Christmas, and you don't look to me like Santy Claus hunting 'round for lovelythings to do. "

"Anyway, I'll send up a lot of grub, " declared the gambler, with awonderful softening of the heart. "I was foolin'--just havin' ajoke--the last time you was down to the store. You know you can havethe best we've got in the deck. "

"Wal, I 'ain't washed the taste of your joke clean out of my mouth justyet, so I won't bother you to-day, " drawled Jim; and with mutteredcurses the gambler left, determined to have that ledge of gold-bearingrock, let the cost be what it might. 

"I guess we'll have to quit on that there Christmas-tree, " said theblacksmith, who was present with others at the cabin. "Seems youdidn't have time to go to the Pinyon hills and fetch one back. "

"If only I hadn't puttered 'round with the work on the claim, " saidJim, "we might have had that tree as well as not. But I'll tell youwhat we can do. We can cut down the alders and willows at the spring, and bind a lot together and tie on some branches of mountain-tea andmake a tree. That is, you fellers can, for little Skeezucks ain'ta-feelin' right well to-day, and I reckon I'll stay close beside himtill he spruces up. "

"What about your mine?" inquired Lufkins. 

"It ain't agoin' to run away, " said the old philosopher, calmly. "I'lllet it set there for a few more days, as long as I can't hang it up onthe tree. It's just my little present to the boy, anyhow. "

If anything had been needed to inject new enthusiasm into the plans fora Christmas celebration or to fire anew the boyhood in the men, thefind of gold at Jim's very door would have done the trick a dozen timesover. 

With hearts new-created for the simple joys of their labor, the bigrough fellows cut the meagre growth of leafless trees at the spring inthe small ravine, and gathered evergreen mountain-tea that grew inscrawny clusters here and there on the mountains. 

Armful after armful of this, their only possible material, they carriedto the blacksmith's shop below, and there wrought long and hard andearnestly, tying together the wisps of green and the boughs and trunksof tender saplings. 

Four of the stalks, the size of a lady's wrist, they fastened togetherwith twisted wire to form the main support, or body, of their tree, Tothis the reconstructed, enlarged, and strengthened branches werelikewise wired. Lastly, the long, green spikes of the mountain shrubwere tied on, in bunches, like so many worn-out brooms. The tree, whencompleted and standing in its glory in the shop, was a marvellouscreation, fully as much like a fir from the forest as a hair-brush islike a palm. 

Then began the scheme of its decoration. One of the geniuses broke upcountless bottles, for the red and green glass they afforded, and, tying the pieces in slings of cord, hung them in great profusion fromthe tree's peculiar arms. From the ceiling of his place of business, Bone, the barkeep, cut down a fluffy lot of colored paper, stuck therein a great rosette, and with this he added much original beauty to thepile. Out of cigar-boxes came a great heap of bright tin-foil thatwent on the branches in a way that only men could invent. 

The carpenter loaded the structure with his gaudy blocks. The man whohad promised to make a "kind of kaliderscope" made four or five insteadof one. They were white-glass bottles filled with painted pebbles, buttons, dimes, chopped-up pencils, scraps of shiny tin, and anythingor everything that would lend confusion or color to the bottle'sinterior as the thing was rolled about or shaken in the hands. Thesewere so heavy as to threaten the tree's stability. Therefore, they hadto be placed about its base on the floor. 

The blacksmith had made a lot of little axes, shovels, picks, andhammers, all of which had been filed and polished with the greatestcare and affectionate regard for the tiny man whose tree and Christmasall desired to make the finest in the world. 

The teamster had evolved, from the inside lining of his winter coat, ahybrid duck-dog-bear that he called a "woolly sheep. "

One of the men had whittled out no less than four fat tops, all ringedwith colors and truly beautiful to see, that he said were the best hehad ever beheld, despite the fact that something was in them thatseemed to prevent them from spinning. 

Another old fellow brought a pair of rusty skates which were largeenough for a six-foot man. He told of the wonderful feats he had onceperformed on the ice as he hung them on the tree for little Skeezucks. 

The envy of all was awakened, however, by Field, the father of thecamp, who fetched a drum that would actually make a noise. He hadbuilt this wonder out of genuine sheep-skin, stretched over both of theends of a bright tin can of exceptional size, from which he had eatenthe contents solely with the purpose in view of procuring the metalcylinder. 

There were wooden animals, cut-out guns, swords and daggers, wagons--some of them made with spools for wheels--a sled on which thepaint was still wet, and dolls suspiciously suggestive ofpotato-mashers and iron spoons, notwithstanding their clothing. Therewere balls of every size and color, coins of gold and silver, and booksmade up of pasted pictures, culled for the greater part from cans ofpeaches, oysters, tomatoes, lobsters, and salmon. 

Nearly every man had fashioned something, and hardly anything had beenleft unpainted. The clumsy old "boys" of the town had labored withuntold patience to perfect their gifts. Their earnestness over thechild and the day was a beautiful thing to see. Never were presentsmore impressive as to weight. The men had made them splendidly strong. 

The gifts had been ticketed variously, many being marked "For LittleSkeezucks, " but by far the greatest number bore the inscription: "ForBruvver Jim's Baby--Merry Christmas. "

The tree, by the time the things had been lashed upon its branches, needed propping and guying in every direction. The placing of big, white candles upon it, however, strained the skill and self-control ofthe men to the last degree. If a candle prefers one set of antics toanother, that set is certainly embodied in the versatile schemes forlopping over, which the wretched thing will develop on thebest-behaving tree in the world. On a home-made tree the opportunitiesfor a candle's enjoyment of this, its most diverting ofaccomplishments, are increased remarkably. The day was cold, but themen perspired from every pore, and even then the night came on beforethe work was completed. 

When at length they ceased their labors for the day, there was stillbefore them the appalling task of preparing the Christmas banquet. 

In the general worry incident to all such preparations throughout theworld, Parky, the gambler, fired an unexpected shot. He announced hisintention of giving the camp a grand celebration of his own. The"Palace" saloon would be thrown wide open for the holiday, and food, drink, music, and dancing would be the order of the memorable occasion. 

"It's a game to knock our tree and banquet into a cocked hat, " said theblacksmith, grimly. "Well--he may get some to come, but none of oldJim's friends or the fellers which likes little Skeezucks is goin' todesert our own little festival. "

Nevertheless, the glitter of the home-made tree in the dingy shop wasdimmed. 

CHAPTER XIII

THEIR CHRISTMAS-DAY

The day before Christmas should, by right of delights about to blossom, be nearly as happy as the sweet old carnival itself, but up at thecabin on the hill it was far from being joyous. 

The tiny mite of a foundling was not so well as when his friends hadleft him on the previous afternoon. 

He was up and dressed, sitting, in his grave little way, on the miner'sknee, weakly holding his crushed-looking doll, but his cold hadincreased, his sweet baby face was paler, the sad, dumb look in hiseyes was deeper in its questioning, the breakfast that the fond old Jimhad prepared was quite untasted. 

"He ain't agoin' to be right down sick, of course?" said theblacksmith, come to report all the progress made. "Natchelly, we'dbetter go on, gittin' ready fer the banquet? He'll be all right ferto-morrow?"

"Oh yes, " said Jim. "There never yet was a Christmas that wouldn't geta little youngster well. He'll come to the tree, you bet. It's goin'to be the happiest time he ever had. "

Outside, the red-headed Keno was chopping at the brush. The weatherwas cold and windy, the sky gray and forbidding. When the smith hadgone, old Jim, little Skeezucks, and the pup were alone. Tintoretto, the joyous, was prancing about with a boot in his jaws. He stumbledconstantly over its bulk, and growled anew at every interference withhis locomotion. 

"Does little pardner like the pup?" said Jim, patting the sick littleman on the back with his clumsy but comforting hand. "Do you want himto come here and play?"

The wee bit of a parentless, deserted boy slowly shook his head. 

"Don't you like him any more?" said Jim. 

A weak little nod was the answer. 

"Is there anything the baby wants?" inquired the miner, tenderly. "What would little Skeezucks like?"

For the very first time since his coming to the camp the littlefellow's brown eyes abruptly filled with tears. His tiny lip began totremble. 

"Bruv-ver Jim, " he said, and, leaning against the rough old coat of theminer, he cried in his silent way of passionate longing, far too deepin his childish nature for the man to comprehend. 

"Poor little man ain't well, " said Jim, in a gentle way of soothing. "Bruvver Jim is here all right, and goin' to stay, " and, holding thequiet little figure to his heart, he stood up and walked with him upand down the dingy cabin's length, till the shaking little sobs hadceased and the sad little man had gone to sleep. 

All day the miner watched the sleeping or the waking of the tinypilgrim. The men who came to tell of the final completion of the treeand the greater preparations for the feast were assured that the onetiny guest for whom their labors of love were being expended wouldsurely be ready to enjoy the celebration. 

The afternoon gave way to night in the manner common to wintry days. From time to time a gust of wind tore the fleece from the clouds andhurled it in snow upon the silent earth. Dimly the lights of thecabins shone through the darkness and the chill. 

At the blacksmith's shop the wind went in as if to warm itself beforethe forge, only to find it chill and black, wherefore it crept outagain at the creaking door. A long, straight pencil of snow was flungthrough a chink, across the earthen floor and against the swayingChristmas-tree, on which the, presents, hanging in readiness for littleSkeezucks, beat out a dull, monotonous clatter of tin and wood as theycollided in the draught. 

The morning--Christmas morning--broke with one bright gleam ofsunlight, shining through the leaden banks before the cover of cloudswas once more dropped upon the broken rim of mountains all about. 

Old Jim was out of his bunk betimes, cooking a breakfast fit, he said, "to tempt a skeleton to feast. "

True to his scheme of ensnaring the gray old miner in an idleness withregard to his mine which should soon prove a fatal mistake, Parky, thegambler, had sent a load of the choicest provisions from the store tothe cabin on the hill. Only too glad of the daintier morsels thussupplied for his ailing little guest, old Jim had made but feebleprotest when the things arrived, and now was preparing a meal from thenicest of the packages. 

Little Skeezucks, however, waked in a mood of lethargy not to befathomed by mere affection. Not only did he turn away at the meresuggestion of eating, but he feebly hid his face and gave a little moan. 

"He ain't no better, " Jim announced, putting down a breakfast-dish withits cargo quite untasted. "I wish we had a little bit of medicine. "

"What kind?" said the worried Keno. 

"It wouldn't make much difference, " answered the miner. "Anything ismedicine that a doctor prescribes, even if it's only sugar-and-water. "

"But there ain't a doctor into camp, " objected Keno, hauling at hissleeves. "And the one they had in Bullionville has went away, and hewas fifty miles from here. "

"I know, " said Jim. 

"You don't think he's sick?" inquired Keno, anxiously. 

Jim looked long at his tiny foundling dressed in the nightie that camebelow his feet. A dull, heavy look was in the little fellow's eyes, half closed and listless. 

"He ain't no better, " the miner repeated. "I don't know what to do. "

Keno hesitated, coughed once or twice, and stirred the fire fiercelybefore he spoke again. Then he said, "Miss Doc is a sort of femaledoctor. She knows lots of female things. "

"Yes, but she can't work 'em off on the boy, " said Jim. "He ain't bigenough to stand it. "

"No, I don't suppose he is, " agreed Keno, going to the window, on whichhe breathed, to melt away the frosty foliage of ice. "I think there'ssome of the boys a-comin'--yep--three or four. "

The boots of the men could be heard, as they creaked on the crisplyfrozen snow, before the visitors arrived at the door. Keno let themin, and with them an oreole of chill and freshness flavored spicily ofwinter. There were three--the carpenter, Bone, and Lufkins. 

"How's the little shaver?" Bone inquired at once. 

"About the same, " said Jim. "And how's the tree?"

"All ready, " answered Lufkins. "Old Webber's got a bully fire, andiron melting hot, to warm the shop. The tree looks great. She's alllit up, and the doors all shut to make it dark, and you bet she's agem--a gorgeous gem--ain't she, fellers?"

The others agreed that it was. 

"And the boys are nearly all on deck, " resumed the teamster, "andWebber wanted to know if the morning--Christmas morning--ain't the timefor to fetch the boy. "

"Wal, some might think so, " Jim replied, unwilling to concede that thetiny man in the bunk was far too ill to join in the cheer so early inthe day. "But the afternoon is the regular parliamentary time, and, anyway, little Skeezucks 'ain't had his breakfast, boys, and--we wantto be sure the shop is good and warm. "

"The boys is all waitin' fer to give three cheers, " said the carpenter, "and we're goin' to surprise you with a Christmas song called 'Massa'sin the Cole, Cole Ground. '"

"Shut up!" said Bone; "you're givin' it all away. So you won't bringhim down this mornin'?"

"Well, we'll tell 'em, " agreed the disappointed Lufkins. "What time doyou think you'll fetch the little shaver, then, this afternoon?"

"I guess about twelve, " said Jim. 

"How's he feelin'?" inquired the carpenter. 

"Wal, he don't know how to feel on Christmas yet, " answered the miner, evasively. "He doesn't know what's a-comin'. "

"Wait till he sees them blocks, " said the carpenter, with a knowingwink. 

"I ain't sayin' nothin', " added Lufkins, with the most significantsmile, "but you jest wait. "

"Nor me ain't doin' any talkin', " said Bone. 

"Well, the boys will all be waitin', " was the teamster's last remark, and slowly down the whitened hill they went, to join their fellows atthe shop of the smith. 

The big, rough men did wait patiently, expectantly, loyally. Blowingout the candles, to save them for the moment when the tiny child shouldcome, they sat around, or stood about, or wandered back and forth, eachtogged out in his very best, each with a new touch of Christmas meaningin his heart. 

Behind the tree a goodly portion of the banquet was in readiness. Keno's pie was there, together with a mighty stack of doughnuts, plateson plates of pickles, cans of fruit preserves, a mighty pan of coldbaked beans, and a fine array of biscuits big as a man's two fists. From time to time the carpenter, who had saved up his appetite fornearly twenty-four hours, went back to the table and feasted his eyeson the spread. At length he took and ate a pickle. From that, atlength, his gaze went longingly to Keno's pie. How one little piecould do any good to a score or so of men he failed to see. At last, in his hunger, he could bear the temptation no longer. He descended onthe pie. But how it came to be shied through the window, practicallyintact, half a moment later, was never explained to the waiting crowd. 

By the time gray noon had come across the mountain desolation to thegroup of little shanties in the snow, old Jim was thoroughly alarmed. Little Skeezucks was helplessly lying in his arms, inert, breathingwith difficulty, and now and again moaning, as only a sick little miteof humanity can. 

"We can't take him down, " said the miner, at last. "He ought to have awoman's care. "

Keno was startled; his worry suddenly engulfed him. 

"What kin we do?" he asked, in helplessness. 

"Miss Doc's a decent woman, " answered Jim, in despair. "She might knowwhat to do. "

"You couldn't bring yourself to that?" asked Keno, thoroughly amazed. 

"I could bring myself to anything, " said Jim, "if only my little boycould be well and happy. "

"Then you ain't agoin' to take him down to the tree?"

"How can I?" answered Jim. "He's awful sick. He needs something morethan I can give. He needs--a mother. I didn't know how sick he wasgettin'. He won't look up. He couldn't see the tree. He can't belike the most of little kids, for he don't even seem to know it'sChristmas. "

"Aw, poor little feller!" said Keno. "Jim, what we goin' to do?"

"You go down and ask Miss Doc if I can fetch him there, " instructedJim. "I think she likes him, or she wouldn't have made his littleclothes. She's a decent woman, and I know she's got a heart. Go onthe run! I'm sorry I didn't give in before. "

The fat little Keno ran, in his shirt-sleeves, and without his hat. 

Jim was afraid the motionless little foundling was dying in his arms. He could presently wait no longer, either for Keno's return or foranything else. He caught up two of the blankets from the bed, and, wrapping them eagerly, swiftly about the moaning little man, left hiscabin standing open and hastened down the white declivity as fast as hecould go, Tintoretto, with puppy whinings of concern, closely taggingat his heels. 

Lufkins, starting to climb once more to the cabin, beheld him fromafar. With all his speed he darted back to the blacksmith-shop and thetree. 

"He coming!" he cried, when fifty yards away. "Light thecandles--quick!"

In a fever of joy and excitement the rough fellows lighted up theirhome-made tree. The forge flung a largess of heat and light, as red asholly, through the gloom of the place. All the men were prepared witha cheer, their faces wreathed with smiles, in a new sort of joy. Butthe moments sped away in silence and nothing of Jim and the one smallcause of their happiness appeared. Indeed, the gray old miner was atDennihan's already. Keno had met him on the hill with an eager crythat welcome and refuge were gladly prepared. 

With her face oddly softened by the news and appeal, Miss Doc herselfcame running to the gate, her hungry arms outstretched to take thechild. 

"Just make him well, " was Jim's one cry. "I know a woman can make himwell. "

And all afternoon the men at the blacksmith's-shop kept up their hope. Keno had come to them, telling of the altered plans by which littleSkeezucks had found his way to Miss Doc, but by special instruction headded that Jim was certain that improvement was coming already. 

"He told me that evenin' is the customary hour fer to have a tree, anyhow, " concluded Keno, hopefully. "He says he was off when he saidto turn it loose at noon. "

"Does he think Miss Doc can git the little feller fixed all up tocelebrate to-night?" inquired Bone. "Is that the bill of fare?"

"That's about it, " said Keno, importantly. "I'm to come and let youknow when we're ready. "

Impatient for the night to arrive, excited anew, when at last it closedin on the world of snow and mountains, the celebrators once moregathered at the shop and lighted up their tree. The wind was rushingbrusquely up the street; the snow began once more to fall. From the"Palace" saloon came the sounds of music, laughter, song, and revelry. Light streamed forth from the window in glowing invitation. All daylong its flow of steaming drinks and its endless succession of savorydishes had laded the air with temptation. 

Not a few of the citizens of Borealis had succumbed to the gayerattractions of Parky's festival, but the men who had builded aChristmas-tree and loaded its branches with presents waited and waitedfor tiny Skeezucks in the dingy shop. 

The evening passed. Night aged in the way that wintry storm andlowering skies compel. Dismally creaked the door on its rusted hinges. Into the chink shot the particles of snow, and formed again that icymark across the floor of the shop. One by one the candles burned awayon the tree, gave a gasp, a flare, and expired. 

Silently, loyally the group of big, rough miners and toilers sat in thecheerless gloom, hearing that music, in its soullessness, come on thegusts of the storm--waiting, waiting for their tiny guest. 

At length a single candle alone illumined their pitiful tree, standingwith its meagre branches of greenery stiffly upheld on its scrawnyframe, while the darkness closed sombrely in upon the glint of the toysthey had labored to make. 

Then finally Keno came, downcast, pale, and worried. 

"The little feller's awful sick, " he said. "I guess he can't come tothe tree. "

His statement was greeted in silence. 

"Then, maybe he'll see it to-morrow, " said the blacksmith, after amoment. "It wouldn't make so very much odds to us old cusses. Christmas is for kids, of course. So we'll leave her standing jest asshe is. "

Slowly they gave up their final hopes. Slowly they all went out in thestorm and night, shutting the door on the Christmas celebration nowabandoned to darkness, the creak of the hinges, the long line of snowinside that pointed to the tree. 

One by one they bade good-night to Webber, the smith, and so went hometo many a cold little cabin, seemingly hunched like a freezing thing inthe driving storm. 

CHAPTER XIV

"IF ONLY I HAD THE RESOLUTION"

For the next three or four days the tiny bit of a man at Miss Doc'sseemed neither to be worse nor better of his ailment. The hand oflethargy lay with dulling weight upon him. Old Jim and Miss Dennihanwere baffled, though their tenderness increased and their old animositydisappeared, forgotten in the stress of care. 

That the sister of Doc could develop such a spirit of motherhoodastounded nearly every man in the camp. Accustomed to acerbities ofcriticism for their many shortcomings from her ever-pointed tongue, they marvelled the more at her semi-partnership with Jim, whom of allthe population of the town she had scorned and verbally castigated mostfrequently. 

Resupplying their tree with candles, the patient fellows had kept alivetheir hope of a great day of joy and celebration, only to see itsteadily receding from their view. At length they decided to carrytheir presents to the house where the wan little foundling lay, trusting the sight of their labors of love might cheer him to recovery. 

To the utter amazement of her brother, Miss Doc not only permitted thebig, rough men to track the snow through her house, when they came withtheir gifts, but she gave them kindly welcome. In her face that daythey readily saw some faint, illusive sign of beauty heretoforeunnoticed, or perhaps concealed. 

"He'll come along all right, " she told them, with a smile they found tobe singularly sweet, "for Jim do seem a comfort to the poor littlething. "

Old Jim would surely have been glad to believe that he or anythingsupplied a comfort to the grave little sick man lying so quietly inbed. The miner sat by him all day long, and far into every night, onlyclimbing to his cabin on the hill when necessity drove him away. Thenhe was back there in the morning by daylight, eager, but cheerfulalways. 

The presents were heaped on the floor in sight of the pale littleSkeezucks, who clung unfailingly, through it all, to the funnymakeshift of a doll that "Bruvver Jim" had placed in his keeping. Heappeared not at all to comprehend the meaning of the gifts the men hadbrought, or to know their purpose. That never a genuinely happyChristmas had brightened his little, mysterious life, Miss Dennihanknew by a swift, keen process of womanly intuition. 

"I wisht he wasn't so sad, " she said, from time to time. "I expecthe's maybe pinin'. "

On the following day there came a change. The little fellow tossed inhis bed with a fever that rose with every hour. With eyes now burningbright, he scanned the face of the gray old miner and begged for"Bruvver Jim. "

"This is Bruvver Jim, " the man assured him repeatedly. "What does babywant old Jim to do?"

"Bruv-ver--Jim, " came the half-sobbed little answer. "Bruv-ver--Jim. "

Jim took him up and held him fast in his arms. The weary little mindhad gone to some tragic baby past. 

"No-body--wants me--anywhere, " he said. 

The heart in old Jim was breaking. He crooned a hundred tenderdeclarations of his foster-parenthood, of his care, of his wish to be acomfort and a "pard. "

But something of the fever now had come between the tiny ears and anyvoice of tenderness. 

"Bruv-ver--Jim; Bruv-ver--Jim, " the little fellow called, time and timeagain. 

With the countless remedies which her lore embraced, the almostdespairing Miss Doc attempted to allay the rising fever. She madelittle drinks, she studied all the bottles in her case of simples withunremitting attention. 

Keno, the always-faithful, was sent to every house in camp, seeking foranything and everything that might be called a medicine. It was all ofno avail. By the time another day had dawned little Skeezucks wasflaming hot with the fever. He rolled his tiny body in baby delirium, his feeble little call for "Bruvver Jim" endlessly repeated, with hissad little cry that no one wanted him anywhere in the world. 

In his desperation, Jim was undergoing changes. His face was haggard;his eyes were ablaze with parental anguish. 

"I know a shrub the Injuns sometimes use for fever, " he said to MissDoc, at last, when he suddenly thought of the aboriginal medicine. "Itgrows in the mountains. Perhaps it would do him good. "

"I don't know, " she answered, at the end of her resources, and sheclasped her hands. "I don't know. "

"If only I can git a horse, " said Jim, "I might be able to find theshrub. "

He waited, however, by the side of the moaning little pilgrim. 

Then, half an hour later, Bone, the bar-keep, came up to see him, inhaste and excitement. They stood outside, where the visitor had calledhim for a talk. 

"Jim, " said Bone, "you're in fer trouble. Parky is goin' to jump yourclaim to-night--it bein' New Year's eve, you know--at twelve o'clock. He told me so himself. He says you 'ain't done assessment, nor youcan't--not now--and you 'ain't got no more right than anybody else tohold the ground. And so he's meanin' to slap a new location on theclaim the minute this here year is up. "

"Wal, the little feller's awful sick, " said Jim. "I'm thinkin' ofgoin' up in the mountains for some stuff the Injuns sometimes use forfever. "

"You can't go and leave your claim unprotected, " said Bone. 

"How did Parky happen to tell you his intentions?" said Jim. 

"He wanted me to go in with him, " Bone replied, flushing hotly at thebare suggestion of being involved in a trick so mean. "He made mepromise, first, I wouldn't give the game away, but I've got to tell itto you. I couldn't stand by and see you lose that gold-ledge now. "

"To-morrow is New Year's, sure enough, " Jim replied, reflectively. "That mine belongs to little Skeezucks. "

"But Parky's goin' to jump it, and he's got a gang of toughs to backhim up. "

"I'd hate to lose it, Bone. It would seem hard, " said Jim. "But Iought to go up in the hills to find that shrub. If only I had a horse. I could go and git back in time to watch the claim. "

Bone was clearly impatient. 

"Don't git down to the old 'if only' racket now, " he said, with heat. "I busted my word to warn you, Jim, and the claim is worth a fortune toyou and little Skeezucks. "

Jim's eyes took on a look of pain. 

"But, Bone, if he don't git well, " he said--"if he don't git well, think how I'd feel! Couldn't you get me a horse? If only--"

"Hold on, " interrupted Bone, "I'll do all I kin for the poor littleshaver, but I don't expect I can git no horse. I'll go and see, butthe teams has all got the extry stock in harness, fer the roads ismighty tough, and snow, down the cañon, is up to the hubs of thewheels. You've got to be back before too late or your claim goes up, fer, Jim, you know as well as me that Parky's got the right of law!"

"If only I could git that shrub, " said Jim, as his friend departed, andback to the tossing little man he went, worried to the last degree. 

Bone was right. The extra horses were all in requisition to haul theore to the quartz-mill through a stretch of ten long miles of driftedsnow. Moreover, Jim had once too often sung his old "if-only" cry. The men of Borealis smiled sadly, as they thought of tiny Skeezucks, but with doubt of Jim, whose resolutions, statements, promises, hadlong before been estimated at their final worth. 

"There ain't no horse he could have, " said Lufkins, making readyhimself to drive his team of twenty animals through wind and snow tothe mill, "and even if we had a mule, old Jim would never start. It'scomin' on to snow again to-night, and that's too much for Jim. "

Bone was not at once discouraged, but in truth he believed, with allthe others, that Jim would no more leave the camp to go forth andbreast the oncoming snow to search the mountains for a shrub than hewould fetch a tree for the Christmas celebration or work good and hardat his claim. 

The bar-keep found no horse. He expected none to be offered, and felthis labors were wasted. The afternoon was well advanced when he cameagain to the home of Miss Doc, where Jim was sitting by the bed whereonthe little wanderer was burning out his life. 

"Jim, " he said, in his way of bluntness, "there ain't no horse you cangit, but I warned you 'bout the claim, and I don't want to see you loseit, all fer nothin'. "

"He's worse, " said Jim, his eyes wildly blazing with love for thefatherless, motherless little man. "If only I had the resolution, Bone, I'd go and git that shrub on foot. "

"You'd lose yer claim, " said Bone. 

Miss Doc came out to the door where they stood. She was wringing herhands. 

"Jim, " she said, "if you think you kin, anyhow, git that Injun stuff, why don't you go and git it?"

Jim looked at her fixedly. Not before had he known that she felt thecase to be so nearly hopeless. Despair took a grip on his vitals. Asomething of sympathy leaped from the woman's heart to his--a somethingcommon to them both--in the yearning that a helpless child had stirred. 

"I'll get my hat and go, " he said, and he went in the house, to appearalmost instantly, putting on the battered hat, but clothed far toothinly for the rigors of the weather. 

"But, Jim, it's beginning to snow, right now, " objected Bone. 

"I may get back before it's dark, " old Jim replied. 

"I can see you're goin' to lose the claim, " insisted Bone. 

"I'm goin' to git that shrub!" said Jim. "I won't come back till I gitthat shrub. "

He started off through the gate at the back of the house, his long, lank figure darkly cut against the background of the white that layupon the slope. A flurry of blinding snow came suddenly flying on thewind. It wrapped him all about and hid him in its fury, and when thecalmer falling of the flakes commenced he had disappeared around theshoulder of the hill. 

CHAPTER XV

THE GOLD IN BOREALIS

The men to whom the bar-keep told the story of Jim and his start intothe mountains smiled again. The light in their eyes was half ofaffection and half of concern. They could not believe the shiftlessold miner would long remain away in the snow and wind, where more thansimple resolution was required to keep a man afoot. They would see himback before the darkness settled on the world, perhaps with somethingin his hand by way of a weed, if not precisely the "Injun" thing hesought. 

But the darkness came and Jim was not at hand. The night and the snowseemed swirling down together in the gorge, from every lofty uprise ofthe hills. It was not so cold as the previous storm, yet it stung withits biting force. 

At six o'clock the blacksmith called at the Dennihans', in someanxiety. Doc himself threw open the door, in response to the knock. How small and quiet he appeared, here at home!

"No, he 'ain't showed up, " he said of Jim. "I don't know when he'llcome. "

Webber reported to the boys. 

"Well, mebbe he's gone, after all, " said Field. 

"He looked kind of funny 'round the eyes when he started, " Boneinformed them. "I hope he'll git his stuff, " and they wandered downthe street again. 

At eight o'clock the bar-keep returned once more to Miss Doc's. 

No Jim was there. The sick little foundling was feebly calling in hisbaby way for "Bruvver Jim. "

The fever had him in its furnace. Restlessly, but now more weaklyweaving, the tiny bit of a man continued as ever to cling to his doll, which he held to his breast with all that remained of his strength. Itseemed as if his tired baby brain was somehow aware that Jim was gone, for he begged to have him back in a sweet little way of entreaty, infinitely sad. 

"Bruvver Jim?" he would say, in his questioning little voice--"BruvverJim?" And at last he added, "Bruvver Jim--do--yike--'ittle Nu--thans. "

At this Miss Doc felt her heart give a stroke of pain, for somethingthat was almost divination of things desolate in the little fellow'sshort years of babyhood was granted to her woman's understanding. 

"Bruvver Jim will come, " she said, as she knelt beside the bed. "He'llcome back home to the baby. "

But nine o'clock and ten went by, and only the storm outside came downfrom the hills to the house. 

Hour after hour the lamp was burning in the window as a beacon for thetraveller; hour after hour Miss Dennihan watched the fever and theweary little fellow in its toils. At half-past ten the blacksmith, thecarpenter, and Kew came, Tintoretto, the pup, coldly trembling, attheir heels. Jim was not yet back, and the rough men made noconcealment of their worry. 

"Not home?" said Webber. "Out in the hills--in this?"

"You don't s'pose mebbe he's lost?" inquired the carpenter. 

"No, Jim knows his mountains, " replied the smith, "but any man couldfall and break his leg or somethin'. "

"I wisht he'd come, " said Miss Doc. "I wisht that he was home. "

The three men waited near the house for half an hour more, but in vain. It was then within an hour of midnight. Slowly, at last, they turnedaway, but had gone no more than half a dozen rods when they met thebar-keep, Doc Dennihan, Lufkins the teamster, and four other men of thecamp, who were coming to see if Jim had yet returned. 

"I thought he mebbe hadn't come, " said Bone, when Webber gave hisreport, "but Parky's goin' to try to jump his claim at twelve o'clock, and we ain't goin' fer to stand it! Come on down to my saloon ferextry guns and ammunition. We're soon goin' up on the hill to hold theledge fer Jim and the poor little kid. "

With ominous coupling of the gambler's name with rough and emphaticlanguage, the ten men marched in a body down the street. 

The wind was howling, a door of some deserted shed was dully, incessantly slamming. 

Helplessly Miss Dennihan sat by the bed whereon the tiny pilgrim lay, now absolutely motionless. The fever had come to its final stage. Dryof skin, burning through and through, his little mouth parched despitethe touch of cooling water on his lips, the wee mite of a man without aname, without a home, or a mother, or a single one of the baby thingsthat make the little folks so joyous, had ceased to struggle, andceased at last to call for "Bruvver Jim. "

Then, at a quarter-past eleven, the outside door was suddenly thrownopen, and in there staggered Jim, a haggard, wild-eyed being, ghastlywhite, utterly exhausted, and holding in his hand a wretched, scrawnybranch of the mountain shrub he had gone to seek. 

"Oh, Jim! Jim!" cried Miss Doc, and, running forward, she threw herarm around his waist to keep him up, for she thought he must fall atevery step, "He's--alive?" he asked her, hoarsely. "He's alive? I only asked tohave him wait! Hot water!--get the stuff in water--quick!" and hethrust the branch into her hand. 

Beside the bed, on his great, rough knees, he fairly fell, crooningincoherently, and by a mighty effort keeping his stiff, cold hands fromthe tiny form. 

Miss Doc had kept a plate of biscuit warm in the stove. One of theseand a piece of meat she gave to the man, bidding him eat it for thewarmth his body required. 

"Fix the shrub in the water, " he begged. 

"It's nearly ready now, " she answered. "Take a bite to eat. "

Then, presently, she came again to his side. "I've got the stuff, " shesaid, awed by the look of anguish on the miner's face, and into hishands she placed a steaming pitcher, a cup, and a spoon, after whichshe threw across his shoulders a warm, thick blanket, dry andcomforting. 

Already the shrub had formed a dark, pungent liquor of the water pouredupon it. Turning out a cupful in his haste, old Jim flowed thescalding stuff across his hands. It burned, but he felt no pain. Thespoonful that he dipped from the cup he placed to his own cold lips, totest. He blew upon it as a mother might, and tried it again. 

Then tenderly he fed the tea through the dry little lips. Dully thetiny man's unseeing eyes were fixed on his face. 

"Take it, for old Bruvver Jim, " the man gently coaxed, and spoonfulafter spoonful, touched every time to his own mouth first, to try itsheat, he urged upon the little patient. 

Then Miss Doc did a singular thing. She put on a shawl and, abruptlyleaving the house, ran with all her might down the street, through thesnow, to Bone's saloon. For the very first time in her life sheentered this detested place, a blazing light of joy in her eyes. Sixof the men, about to join the four already gone to the hill above, where Jim had found the gold, were about to leave for the claim. 

"He's come!" cried Miss Doc. "He's home--and got the weed! I thoughtyou boys would like to know!"

Then backing out, with a singular smile upon her face, she hastened toreturn to her home with all the speed the snow would permit. 

Alone in the house with the silent little pilgrim, who seemed beyondall human aid, the gray old miner knew not what he should do. Theshrub tea was failing, it seemed to him. The sight of the droopingchild was too much to be borne. The man threw back his head as heknelt there on the floor, and his stiffened arms were appealinglyuplifted in prayer. 

"God Almighty, " he said, in his broken voice of entreaty, "don't takethis little boy away from me! Let him stay. Let him stay with me andthe boys. You've got so many little youngsters there. For Christ'ssake, let me have this one!"

When Miss Doc came quietly in, old Jim had not apparently moved. Hewas once more dipping the pungent liquor from the cup and murmuringwords of endearment and coaxing, to the all-unhearing little patient. The eager woman took off her shawl and stood behind him, watchingintently. 

"Oh, Jim!" she said, from time to time--"oh, Jim!"

With a new supply of boiling water, constantly heated on her stove, shekept the steaming concoction fresh and hot. 

Midnight came. The New Year was blown across those mighty peaks instorm and fury. Presently out of the howling gale came the sound ofhalf a dozen shots, and then of a fusillade. But Jim, if he heardthem, did not guess the all they meant to him. 

For an hour he had only moved his hands to take the pitcher, or to putit down, or to feed the drink to the tiny foundling, still somotionless and dull with the fever. 

One o'clock was finally gone, and two, and three. Jim and the yearningMiss Doc still battled on, like two united parents. 

Then at last the miner made a half-stifled sound in his throat. 

"You--can go and git a rest, " he said, brokenly. "The sweat has come. "

All night the wind and the storm continued. All through the long, longdarkness, the bitter cold and snow were searching through the hills. But when, at last, the morning broke, there on the slope, where oldJim's claim was staked, stood ten grim figures, white with snow, andscattered here and there around the ledge of gold. They were Bone andWebber, Keno and Field, Doc Dennihan, the carpenter, the teamster, andother rough but faithful men who had guarded the claim against invasionin the night. 

CHAPTER XVI

ARRIVALS IN CAMP

There is something fine in a party of men when no one brags of a fightbrought sternly to victory. 

Parky, the gambler, was badly shot through the arm; Bone, the bar-keep, had a long, straight track through his hair, cleaned by a ball of lead. And this was deemed enough of a story when the ten half-frozen men hadsecured the claim to Jim and his that New-Year's morning. 

But the camp regretted on the whole that, instead of being shelved athis house, the gambler had not been slain. 

For nearly a week the wan little foundling, emerging from the vale ofshadows at the home of Miss Dennihan, lay as if debating, in his grave, baby way, the pros and cons of existence. And even when, at last, hewas well on the road to recovery, he somehow seemed more quiet thanever before. 

The rough old "boys" of the town could not, by any process of theirfertile brains, find an adequate means of expressing their relief anddelight when they knew at last the quaint little fellow was againhimself. 

They came to Miss Dennihan's in groups, with brand-new presents andwith wonderful spirits. They played on the floor like so manywell-meaning bears; they threatened to fetch their poor, neglectedChristmas-tree from the blacksmith-shop; they urged Miss Doc to start acandy-pull, a night-school, a dancing-class, and a game ofblindman's-buff forthwith. Moreover, not a few discovered traces ofbeauty and sweetness in the face of the formerly plain, severe oldmaid, and slyly one or two began a species of courtship. 

On all their manoeuvres the little convalescent looked with gravecuriosity. Such antics he had surely never seen. Pale and silent, ashe sat on Jim's big knee one evening, he watched the men intently, their crude attempts at his entertainment furnishing an obvious puzzleto his tiny mind. Then presently he looked with wonder and awe at thepresents, unable to understand that all this wealth of bottles, cubes, tops, balls, and wagons was his own. 

The carpenter was spelling "cat" and "dog" and "Jim" with the blocks, while Field was rolling the balls on the floor and others weredemonstrating the beauties and functions of kaleidoscopes and endlessother offerings; but through it all the pale little guest of the campstill held with undiminished fervor to the doll that Jim had made whenfirst he came to Borealis. 

"We'd ought to git up another big Christmas, " said the blacksmith, standing with his arms akimbo. "He didn't have no holidays worth acent. "

"We could roll 'em all into one, " suggested Field--"Christmas, NewYear's, St. Valentine's, and Fourth of July. "

"What's the matter with Washington's birthday?" Bone inquired. 

"And mine?" added Keno, pulling down his sleeves. "By jinks! it comesnext week. "

"Aw, you never had a birthday, " answered the teamster. "You was jestmixed up and baked, like gingerbread. "

"Or a lemon pie, " said the carpenter, with obvious sarcasm. 

"Wal, holidays are awful hard for some little folks to digest, " saidJim. "I'm kind of scared to see another come along. "

"I should think to-night is pretty near holiday enough, " said thealtered Miss Doc. "Our little boy has come 'round delightful. "

"Kerrect, " said Bone. "But if us old cusses could see him sort oflaughin' and crowin' it would do us heaps of good. "

"Give him time, " said the teamster. "Some of the sickenest crowin' Iever heard was let out too soon. "

The carpenter said, "You jest leave him alone with these here blocksfor a day or two, if you want to hear him laugh. "

"'Ain't we all laughed at them things enough to suit you yit?" inquiredBone. "Some people would want you to laugh at their funeral, I reckon. "

"Wal, laughin' ain't everything there is worth the havin', " Jimdrawled. "Some people's laughin' has made me ashamed, and some hasmade me walk with a limp, and some has made me fightin' mad. Whenlittle Skeezucks starts it off--I reckon it's goin' to make me a boyagain, goin' in swimmin' and eatin' bread-and-molasses. "

For the next few days, however, Jim and the others were content to seethe signs of returning baby strength that came to little Skeezucks. That the clearing away of the leaden clouds, and the coming of beautyand sunshine, pure and dazzling, had a magical effect upon the tinychap, as well as on themselves, the men were all convinced. And thecamp, one afternoon, underwent a wholly novel and unexpected sensationof delight. 

A man, with his sweet, young wife and three small, bright-facedchildren, came driving to Borealis. With two big horses steaming inthe crystal air and blowing great, white clouds of mist from theirnostrils, with wheels rimmed deeply by the snow between the spokes, with colored wraps and mittened hands, and three red worsted caps uponthe children's heads, the vision coming up the one straight street wasquite enough to warm up every heart in town. 

The rig drew up in front of the blacksmith-shop, and twenty men camewalking there to give it welcome. 

"Howdy, stranger?" said the blacksmith, as he came from his forge, bareheaded, his leathern apron tied about his waist, his sleeves rolledup, and his big, hairy arms akimbo. "Pleasant day. You're needin'somethin' fixed, I see, " and he nodded quietly towards a road-side jobof mending at the doubletree, which was roughly wrapped about with rope. 

"Yes. Good-morning, " said the driver of the rig, a clear-eyed, wholesome-looking man of clerical appearance. "We had a littleaccident. We've come from Bullionville. How long do you think it willtake you to put us in shape?"

The smith was looking at the children. 

Such a trio of blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked, unalarmed little girls hadnever before been seen in Borealis; and they all looked back at him andthe others with the most engaging frankness. 

"Well, about how far you goin'?" said the smith, by way of answer. 

"To Fremont, " replied the stranger. "I'm a preacher, but they thoughtthey couldn't support a church at Bullionville, " he added, with a look, half mirth, half worry, in his eyes. "However, a man from Fremontloaned us the horses and carriage, so we thought we'd move before thesnow fell any deeper. I'd like to go on without great delay, if themending can be hastened. "

"Your off horse needs shoein', " said Webber, quickly scanning everydetail of the animals and vehicle with his practised eye. "It's a longpull to Fremont. I reckon you can't git started before the day aftertomorrow. "

To a preacher who had found himself superfluous, the thought of thebill of expenses that would heap up so swiftly here in Borealis wasdistressing. He was poor; he was worried. Like many of the miners, hehad worked at a claim that proved to be worthless in the end. 

"I--hoped it wouldn't take so long, " he answered, slowly, "but then Isuppose we shall be obliged to make the best of the situation. Thereare stables where I can put up the horses, of course?"

"You kin use two stalls of mine, " said the teamster, who liked thelooks of the three little girls as well as those of the somewhat shylittle mother and the preacher himself. "Boys, unhitch his stock. "

Field, Bone, and the carpenter, recently made tender over all ofyoungster-kind, proceeded at once to unfasten the harness. 

"But--where are we likely to find accommodations?" faltered thepreacher, doubtfully. "Is there any hotel or boarding-house in camp?"

"Well, not exactly--is there, Webber?" replied the teamster. "Theboardin'-house is over to the mill--the quartz-mill, ten miles down thecanon. "

"But I reckon they could stop at Doc's, " replied the smith, who hadinstantly determined that three bright-eyed little girls in red worstedcaps should not be permitted to leave Borealis without a visit first toJim and tiny Skeezucks. "Miss Doc could sure make room, even if Dochad to bunk up at Jim's. One of you fellers jest run up and ask her, quick! And, anyway, " he added, "Mr. Preacher, you and the three littlegirls ought to see our little boy. "

Field, who had recently developed a tender admiration for theheretofore repellent Miss Doc, started immediately. 

He found old Jim and the pup already at the house where the tiny, palelittle Skeezucks still had domicile. Quickly relating the news of thehour, the messenger delivered his query as to room to be had, in onelong gasp of breath. 

Miss Doc flushed prettily, to think of entertaining a preacher and hisfamily. The thought of the three little girls set her heart to beatingin a way she could not take the time to analyze. 

"Of course, they kin come, and welcome, " she said. "I'll give 'em alla bite to eat directly, but I don't jest see where I'll put so many. If John and the preacher could both go up on the hill with you, Jim, I'low I could manage. "

"Room there for six, " said Jim, who felt some singular stirring ofexcitement in his veins at the thought of having the grave littlefoundling meet three other children here in the camp. "I'd give him abunk if Keno and me had to take to the floor. "

"All right, I'll skedaddle right back there, lickety-split, and let 'emknow, " said Field. "I knowed you'd do it, Miss Doc, " and away he went. 

By the time he returned to the blacksmith-shop the horses were gone tothe stable, and all the preacher's family and all their bundles wereout of the carriage. What plump-legged, healthy, inquisitiveyoungsters those three small girls appeared as they stood there in thesnow. 

"All right!" said Field, as he came to the group, where everybodyseemed already acquainted and friendly. "Fixed up royal, and ye're allexpected right away. "

"We couldn't leave the little gals to walk, " said the blacksmith. "I'll carry this one myself, " and, taking the largest of the childrenin his big, bare arms, he swung her up with a certain gesture ofyearning not wholly under control. 

"And I'll--"

"And I'll--" came quickly from the group, while six or eight bigfellows suddenly jostled each other in their haste to carry ayoungster. There being but two remaining, however, only two of the mengot prizes, and Field felt particularly injured because he had earnedsuch an honor, he felt, by running up to Doc's to make arrangements. He and several others were obliged to be contented with the bundles, not a few of which were threatened with destruction in the eagerness ofall to be of use. 

But presently everything was adjusted, and, deserting the carriage, theshop, and everything else, the whole assemblage moved in procession onthe home of the Dennihans. 

A few minutes later little Skeezucks, Jim, and the pup--all of themlooking from the window of the house--saw those three small caps ofred, and felt that New-Year's day had really come at last. 

CHAPTER XVII

SKEEZUCKS GETS A NAME

When the three small girls, so rosy of cheek and so sparkling of eye, confronted the grave little pilgrim he could only gaze upon them withtimid yearning as he clung to his doll and to old "Bruvver Jim. " Therenever had been in all his life a vision so beautiful. Old Jim himselfwas affected almost as much as the quaint, wee man so quietly standingat his side. Even Tintoretto was experiencing ecstasies heretoforeunknown in his youthful career. 

Indeed, no one could have determined by any known system of calculationwhether Jim or tiny Skeezucks or the pup most enjoyed the coming of thepreacher and his family. Old Jim had certainly never before undergoneemotions so deeply stirring. Tintoretto had never before beheld fouryoungsters affording such a wealth of opportunity for puppy-wisemanoeuvres; indeed, he had never before seen but one little playfellowsince his advent in the world. He was fairly crazed with optimism. Asfor Skeezucks--starving for even so much as the sight of children, hungering beyond expression for the sound of youngster voices, for thelaughter and over-bubblings of the little folk with whom by rights hebelonged--nothing in the way of words will ever tell of the almostoverpowering excitement and joy that presently leaped in his lonelylittle heart. 

Honesty is the children's policy. There was nothing artificial in theway those little girls fell in love with tiny Skeezucks; and withequally engaging frankness the tiny man instantly revealed his fondnessfor them all. 

They were introduced as Susie and Rachie and Ellie. Their other namewas Stowe. This much being soon made known, the three regarded theirrights to the house, to little Skeezucks, and to Tintoretto asestablished. They secured the pup by two of his paws and his tail, and, with him thus in hand, employed him to assist in surrounding tinySkeezucks, whom they promptly kissed and adopted. 

"Girls, " said the father, mildly, "don't be rude. "

"They're all right, " drawled Jim, in a new sort of pleasure. "Thereare some kinds of rudeness a whole lot nicer than politeness. "

"What's his name?" said Susie, lifting her piquant little face up toJim, whom all the Stowe family had liked at once. "Has he got anyname?"

In a desperate groping for his inspiration, Jim thought instantly ofall his favorites--Diogenes, Plutarch, Endymion, Socrates, Kit Carson, and Daniel Boone. 

"Wal, yes. His name--" and there old Jim halted, while "Di" and "Plu"and "Indy" and "Soc" all clamored in his brain for the honor. "Hisname--I reckon his name is Carson Boone. "

"Little Carson, " said Rachie. "Isn't Carson a sweet little boy, mammy?What's he got--a rabbit?"

"That's his doll, " said Jim. 

"Oh, papa, look!" said Rachie. 

"Oh, papa, look!" echoed Susie. 

"Papa, yook!" piped Ellie, the youngest, who wanted the dolly forherself, and, therefore, hauled at it lustily. 

The others endeavored to prevent her depredations. Between them theytore the precious creation from the hands of the tiny man, and releasedthe pup, who immediately leaped up and fastened a hold on the dollhimself, to the horror of the preacher, Miss Doc, old Jim, Mrs. Stowe, and Skeezucks, all of whom, save the newly christened little Carson, pounced upon the children, the doll, and Tintoretto, with one accord. And there is nothing like a pounce upon a lot of children or a pup tomake folks well acquainted. 

Her "powder-flask" ladyship being duly rescued, her raiment smoothed, and her head readjusted on her body, the three small, healthy girlswere perpetually enjoined from another such exhibition of covetingtheir neighbor's doll, whereupon all conceived that new diversion mustbe forthwith invented. 

"You can have a lot of fun with all them Christmas presents in thecorner, " Jim informed them, in the great relief he felt himself to seethe quaint little foundling once more in undisputed possession of hisone beloved toy. "They 'ain't got any feelin's. "

Miss Doc had carefully piled the presents in a tidy pyramid against thewall, in the corner designated, after which she had covered the pilewith a sheet. This sheet came off in a hurry. The pup filled hismouth with a yard of the white material, and, growling in joy, shook itmadly and raced away with it streaming in his wake. Miss Doc and Mrs. Stowe gave chase immediately. Tintoretto tripped at once, but evenwhen the women had caught the sheet in their hands he hung onprodigiously, and shook the thing, and growled and braced his weightagainst their strength, to the uncontainable delight of all the littleStowe contingent. 

Then they fell on the presents, to which they conveyed little Carson, in the intimate way of hugging in transit that only small mothers-to-behave ever been known to develop. 

"Oh, papa, look at the funny old bottle!" said Susie, taking up one ofthe "sort of kaliderscopes" in her hand. 

"Papa, mamma, look!" added Rachie. 

"Papa--yook!" piped Ellie, as before, laying violent hands ofpossession on the toy. 

"You can have it, " said Susie; "I'm goin' to have the red wagon. "

"Oh, papa, look at the pretty red wagon!", said Rachie, droppinganother of the kaleidoscopes with commendable promptness. 

"Me!--yed yaggon!" cried Ellie. 

"Children, children!" said the preacher, secretly amused andentertained. "Don't you know the presents all belong to little Carson?"

"Well, we didn't get anything but mittens and caps, " said Rachie, inthe baldest of candor. 

"Go ahead and enjoy the things, " instructed Jim. "Skeezucks, do youwant the little girls to play with all the things?"

The little fellow nodded. He was happier far than ever he had been inall his life. 

"But they ought to play with one thing at a time, and not drop oneafter another, " said the mild Mrs. Stowe, blushing girlishly. 

"I like to see them practise at changin' their minds, " drawled theminer, philosophically. "I'd be afraid of a little gal that didn'tbegin to show the symptoms. "

But all three of the bright-eyed embryos of motherhood had united on aplan. They sat the grave little Carson in the red-painted wagon, withhis doll held tightly to his heart, and began to haul him about. 

Tintoretto, who had dragged off an alphabetical block, was engrossed inthe task of eating off and absorbing the paint and elements ofeducation, with a gusto that savored of something that might and mightnot have been ambition. He abandoned this at once, however, to racebeside or behind or before the wagon, and to help in the pulling bylaying hold of any of the children's dresses that came most readilywithin reach of his jaws. 

The ride became a romp, for the pup was barking, the wheels werecreaking, and the three small girls were crying out and laughing at thetops of their voices. They drew their royal coach through every roomin the house--which rooms were five in number--and then began anew. 

Back and forth and up and down they hastened, the pup and tinySkeezucks growing more and more delighted as their lively littlefriends alternately rearranged him, kissed him, crept on all foursbeside him, and otherwise added adornments to the pageant. In anoutburst of enthusiasm, Tintoretto made a gulp at the off hind-wheel ofthe wagon, and, sinking his teeth in the wood thereof, not onlyprevented its revolutions, but braced so hard that the smallest girl, who was pulling at the moment, found herself suddenly stalled. To heraid her two sturdy little sisters darted, and the three gave a mightytug, to haul the pup and all. 

But the unexpected happened. The wheel came off. The pup let out ayell of consternation and turned a back somersault; the three littleStowes went down in a heap of legs and heads, while the wagon lurchedabruptly and gave the tiny passenger a jolt that astonished himmightily. The three small girls scrambled to their feet, awed intosilence by their breaking of the wagon. 

For a moment the hush was impressive. Then the gravity began to gofrom the face of little Carson. Something was dancing in his eyes. His quaint little face wrinkled oddly in mirth. His head went back, and the sweetest conceivable chuckle of baby laughter came from hislips. Like joy of bubbling water in a brook, it rippled in music neverbefore awakened. Old Jim and Miss Doc looked at each other in completeamazement, but the little fellow laughed and laughed and laughed. Hisheart was overflowing, suddenly, with all the laughing and joy that hadnever before been invited to his heart. The other youngsters joinedhim in his merriment, and so did the preacher and pretty Mrs. Stowe;and so did Jim and Miss Doc, but these two laughed with tears warmlywelling from their eyes. 

It seemed as if the fatherless and motherless little foundling laughedfor all the days and weeks and months of sadness gone beyond his babyrecall. And this was the opening only of his frolic and fun with thechildren. They kissed him in fondness, and planted him promptly in asecond of the wagons. They knew a hundred devices for bringing him joyand merriment, not the least important of which was the irresistiblemarch of destruction on the rough-made Christmas treasures. 

That evening a dozen rough and awkward men of the camp came casually into visit Miss Doc, whose old-time set of thoughts and ideas had beenshattered, till in sheer despair of getting them all in proper orderonce again she let them go and joined in the general outbreak ofamusement. 

There were games of hide-and-seek, in which the four happy children andthe men all joined with equal irresponsibility, and games ofblind-man's-buff, that threatened the breaking to pieces of the house. Through it all, old Jim and the preacher, Mrs. Stowe and Miss Doc werebecoming more and more friendly. 

At last the day and the evening, too, were gone. The tired youngsters, all but little Skeezucks, fell asleep, and were tucked into bed. Eventhe pup was exhausted. Field and the blacksmith, Lufkins, Bone, Keno, and the others thought eagerly of the morrow, which would come so soon, and go so swiftly, and leave them with no little trio of girls rompingwith their finally joyous bit of a boy. 

When at length they were ready to say good-night to tiny Carson, he wassitting again on the knee of the gray old miner. To every one he gavea sweet little smile, as they took his soft, baby hand for a shake. 

And when they were gone, and sleep was coming to hover him softly inher wings, he held out both his little arms in a gesture of longingthat seemed to embrace the three red caps and all this happier world hebegan to understand. 

"Somebody--wants 'ittle--Nu-thans, " he sighed, and his tiny mouth wassmiling when his eyes had closed. 

CHAPTER XVIII

WHEN THE PARSON DEPARTED

In the morning the preacher rolled up his sleeves and assisted Jim inpreparing breakfast in the cabin on the hill, where he and Doc, inaddition to Keno and the miner, had spent the night. Doc had departedat an early hour to take his morning meal at home. Keno was out in thebrush securing additional fuel, the supply of which was low. 

"Jim, " said Stowe, in the easy way so quickly adopted in the mines, "how does the camp happen to have this one little child? There seem tobe no families, and that I can understand, for Bullionville is much thesame; but where did you get the pretty little boy?"

"I found him out in the brush, way over to Coyote Valley, " Jim replied. "He was painted up to look like a little Piute, and the Injuns musthave lost him when they went through the valley hunting rabbits. "

"Found him--out in the brush?" repeated the preacher. "Was he allalone?"

"Not quite. He had several dead rabbits for company, " Jim drawled inreply, and he told all that was known, and all that the camp hadconjectured, concerning the finding of the grave little chap, and hisbrief and none too happy sojourn in Borealis. 

The preacher listened with sympathetic attention. 

"Poor little fellow, " he said, at the end. "It someway makes me thinkof a thing that occurred near Bullionville. I was called toGiant-Powder Gulch to give a man a decent burial. He had been on athree-days' spree, and then had lain all night in the wet where thehorse-trough overflowed, and he died of quick pneumonia. Well, a manthere told me the fellow was a stranger to the Gulch. He said thedissolute creature had appeared, on the first occasion, with a verysmall child, a little boy, who he said had belonged to his sister, whowas dead. My informant said that just as soon as the fellow couldlearn the location of a near-by Indian camp he had carried the littleboy away. The man who told me of it never heard of the child again, and, in fact, had not been aware of the drunkard's return to the Gulch, till he heard the man had died, in the rear of a highly notorioussaloon. I wonder if it's possible this quiet little chap is the samelittle boy. "

"It don't seem possible a livin' man--a white man--could have done athing like that, " said Jim. 

"No--it doesn't, " Stowe agreed. 

"And yet, it must have been in some such way little Skeezucks came tobe among the Injuns, " Jim reflected, aloud. Then in a moment he added;"I'm glad you told me, parson. I know now the low-down brute that senthim off with the Piute hunters can't never come to Borealis and takehim away. "

And yet, all through their homely breakfast old Jim was silentlythinking. A newer tenderness for the innocent, deserted little pilgrimwas welling in his heart. 

Keno, having declared his intention of shovelling off the snow andopening up a trench to uncover the gold-ledge of the miner's claim, departed briskly when the meal was presently finished. Jim and thepreacher, with the pup, however, went at once to the home of MissDennihan, where the children were all thus early engaged in startingoff the day of romping and fun. 

The lunch that came along at noon, and the dinner that the happy MissDoc prepared at dusk, were mere interruptions in the play of the tinyCarson and the lively little girls. 

There never has been, and there never can be, a measure of childishhappiness, but surely never was a child in the world more happy thanthe quaint little waif who had sat all alone that bright Novemberafternoon in the brush where the Indian pony had dropped him. All thegames they had tried on the previous day were repeated anew by theyoungsters, and many freshly invented were enjoyed, including a romp inthe snow, with the sled that one of the miners had fashioned for theChristmas-tree. 

That evening a larger contingent of the men who hungered for theatmosphere of home came early to the little house and joined in thegames. Laughter made them all one human family, and songs were sungthat took them back to farms and clearings and villages, far away inthe Eastern States, where sweethearts, mothers, wives, and sistersofttimes waited and waited for news of a wanderer, lured far away bythe glint of silver and gold. The notes of birds, the chatter ofbrooks, the tinkle of cow-bells came again, with the dreams of abarefoot boy. 

Something of calm and a newer hope and fresher resolution wasvouchsafed to them all when the wholesome young preacher held a homelyservice, in response to their earnest request. 

"Life is a mining for gold, " said he, "and every human breast is amother-lode of the precious metal--if only some one can find theout-croppings, locate a claim, and come upon the ledge. There aretoils, privations, and sufferings, which the search for gold bringsforever in its train. There are pains and miseries and woe in thesearch for the gold in men, but, boys, it's a glorious life! There issomething so honest, so splendid, in taking the metal from the earth!No one is injured, every one is helped. And when the gold in a man isfound, think what a gift it is to the world and to God! I am a minermyself, but I make no gold. It is there, in the hill, or in the man, where God has put it away, and all that you and I can do is to work, though our hands be blistered and our hearts be sore, until we comeupon the treasure at the last. We hasten here, and we scramble there, wheresoever the glint seems brightest, the field most promising; butthe gold I seek is everywhere, and, boys, there is gold on gold inBorealis!

"In the depth of the tunnel or the shaft you need a candle, throwingout its welcome rays, to show you how to work the best and where todig, as you follow the lead. In the search for gold the way is veryoften dark, so we'll sing a hymn that I think you will like, and thenwe'll conclude with a prayer. 

"Children--girls--we will all start it off together, you and yourmother and me. "

The three little, bright-faced girls, the pretty mother, and the fatherof the little flock stood there together to sing. They sang the hymnold Jim had attempted to recall at his own little service that Sunday, weeks before:

 "Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on. The night is dark and I am far from home. Lead Thou me on. Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene; one step enough for me. "

The fresh, sweet voices of the three little girls sent a thrill ofpleasure through the hearts of the big, rough men, and the lumps arosein their throats. One after another they joined in the singing, thosewho knew no words as well as those who were quick to catch a line ormore. 

Then at last the preacher held up his hand in his earnest supplication. 

"Father, " he said, in his simple way, "we are only a few of Thychildren, here in the hollow of Thy mountains, but we wish to share inthe beauty of Thy smile. We want to hear the comfort of Thy voice. Away out here in the sage-brush we pray that Thou wilt find us and takeus home to Thy heart and love. Father, when Thou sendest Thy blessingfor this little child, send enough for all the boys. Amen. "

And so the evening ended, and the night moved in majesty across themountains. 

In the morning, soon after breakfasts were eaten, and Jim and thepreacher had come again to the home of the Dennihans, Webber, theblacksmith, and Lufkins, the teamster, presently arrived with thehorses and carriage. 

A large group of men swiftly gathered to bid good-bye to the children, the shy little mother, and the fine young preacher. 

"I'm sorry to go, " he told them, honestly. "I like your little camp. "

"It's goin' to be a rousin' town pretty soon, by jinks!" said Keno, pulling at his sleeves. "I'm showin' up a great big ledge, on Jim'sBaberlonian claim. "

"Mebbe you'll some day come back here, parson, " said the smith. 

"Perhaps I shall, " he answered. Then a faint look of worry came on hisface as he thrust his hand in his pocket. "Before I forget it, youmust let me know what my bill is for board of the horses and also forthe work you've done. "

Webber flushed crimson. 

"There ain't no bill, " he said. "What do you take us fellersfer--since little Skeezucks came to camp? All we want is to shakehands all 'round, with you and the missus and the little girls. "

Old Jim, little Skeezucks, the pup, and Miss Doc, with Mrs. Stowe, cameout through the snow to the road in front of the gate. Not a penny hadthe preacher been able to force upon the Dennihans for their lodgingand care. 

The man tried to speak--to thank them all, but he failed. He shookhands "all around, " however, and then his shy little wife and the threelittle girls did the same. Preacher and all, they kissed tiny Carson, sitting on the arm he knew so well, and holding fast to his doll; andhe placed his wee bit of a hand on the face of each of his bright-facedlittle friends. He understood almost nothing of what it meant to havehis visitors clamber into the carriage, nevertheless a grave littlequery came into his eyes. 

"Well, Jim, good-bye again, " said Stowe, and he shook the old miner'shand a final time. "Good-bye, Miss Dennihan--good-bye, boys. "

With all the little youngsters in their bright red caps waving theirmittened hands and calling out good-bye, the awkward men, Miss Doc, oldJim, and tiny Skeezucks saw them drive away. Till they came to thebend of the road the children continued to wave, and then the greatravine received them as if to the arms of the mountains. 

CHAPTER XIX

OLD JIM'S RESOLUTION

All that day little Skeezucks and the pup were waiting, listening, expecting the door to open and the three small girls to reappear. Theywent to the window time after time and searched the landscape ofmountains and snow, Tintoretto standing on his hind-legs for thepurpose, and emitting little sounds of puppy-wise worry at the longdelay of their three little friends. 

A number of the men of the camp came to visit there again that evening. 

"We thought little Skeezucks might be lonesome, " they explained. 

So often as the door was opened, the pup and the grave littlepilgrim--clothed these days in the little white frock Miss Dennihan hadmade--looked up, ever in the hope, of espying again those three redcaps. The men saw the wistfulness increase in the baby's face. 

"We've got to keep him amused, " said Field. 

The awkward fellows, therefore, began the games, and romped about, androde the lonely little foundling in the wagon, to the great delight ofpoor Miss Doc, who felt, as much as the pup or Skeezucks, the singularemptiness of her house. 

Having learned to laugh, little Carson tried to repeat the delights ofa mirthful emotion. The faint baby smile that resulted made the menall quiet and sober. 

"He's tired, that's what the matter, " the blacksmith explained. "We'dbetter be goin', boys, and come to see him to-morrow. "

"Of course he must be tired, " agreed the teamster. 

But Jim, sitting silently watching, and the fond Miss Doc, whom nothingconcerning the child escaped, knew better. It was not, however, tillthe boys were gone and silence had settled on the house that even Jimwas made aware of the all that the tiny mite of a man was undergoing. Miss Doc had gone to the kitchen. Jim, Tintoretto, and littleSkeezucks were alone. The little fellow and the pup were standing inthe centre of the floor, intently listening. Together they went to thedoor. There little Carson stretched his tiny arms across the panels inbaby appeal. 

"Bruv-ver--Jim, " he begged. "Bruv-ver--Jim. "

Then, at last, the gray old miner understood the whole significance ofthe baby words. "Bruvver Jim" meant more than just himself; it meantthe three little girls--associates--children--all that is dear to achildish heart--all that is indispensable to baby happiness--all that alonely little heart must have or starve. 

Jim groaned, for the utmost he could do was done when he took thesobbing little fellow in his arms and murmured him words of comfort ashe carried him up and down the room. 

The day that followed, and the day after that, served only to deepenthe longing in the childish breast. The worried men of Borealis playedon the floor in desperation. They fashioned new wagons, sleds, anddolls; they exhausted every device their natures prompted; but beyond asad little smile and the call for "Bruvver Jim" they received no answerfrom the baby heart, At the end of a week the little fellow smiled no more, not even in hisfaint, sweet way of yearning. His heart was starving; his grave, babythought was far away, with the small red caps and the laughing voicesof children. 

The fond Miss Doc and the gray old Jim alone knew what the end must be, inevitably, unless some change should speedily come to pass. 

Meantime, Keno had quietly opened up a mighty ledge of gold-bearing oreon the hill. It lay between walls of slate and granite. Its hugenesswas assured. That the camp would boom in the spring was foreordained. And that ledge all belonged to Jim. But he heard them excitedly tellwhat the find would do for him and the camp as one in a dream. Hecould not care while his tiny waif was starving in his lonely littleway. 

"Boys, " he said at last, one night, when the smith and Bone had calledto see the tiny man, who had sadly gone to sleep--"boys, he's pinin'. He's goin' to die if he don't have little kids for company. I've madeup my mind. I'm goin' to take him to Fremont right away. "

Miss Doc, who was knitting a tiny pair of mittens and planning a tinyred cap and woollen leggings, dropped a stitch and lost a shade ofcolor from her face. 

"Ain't there no other way?" inquired the blacksmith, a poignant regretalready at his heart. "You don't really think he'd up and die?"

"Children have got to be happy, " Jim replied. "If they don't get theirfun when they're little, why, when is it ever goin' to come? I knowhe'll die, all alone with us old cusses, and I ain't a-goin' to wait. "

"But the claim is goin' to be a fortune, " said Bone. "Couldn't youhold on jest a week or two and see if he won't get over thinkin' 'boutthe little gals?"

"If I kept him here and he died, like that--just pinin' away for otherlittle kids--I couldn't look fortune in the face, " answered Jim, towhich, in a moment, he added, slowly, "Boys, he's more to me than allthe claims in Nevada. "

"But--you'll bring him back in the spring, of course?" said theblacksmith, with a worried look about his eyes. "We'd miss him, Jim, almost as much as you. "

"By that time, " supplemented Bone, "the camp's agoin' to be boomin'. Probably we'll have lots of wimmen and kids and schools and everything, fer the gold up yonder is goin' to make Borealis some consid'rableshakes. "

"I'll bring him back in the spring, all right, " said the miner; "butnone of you boys would want to see me keep him here and have him die. "

Miss Doc had been a silent listener to all their conversation. She wasknitting again, with doubled speed. 

"Jim, how you goin'?" she now inquired. 

"I want to get a horse, " answered Jim. "We could ride there horsebackquicker than any other way. If only I can get the horse. "

"It may be stormin' in the mornin', " Webber suggested. "A few cloudsis comin' up from the West. What about the horse, Jim, if it starts tosnow?"

"Riding in a saddle, I can git through, " said the miner. "If it snowsat all, it won't storm bad. Storms that come up sudden never last verylong, and it's been good and bright all day. I'll start unless it'ssnowin' feather-beds. "

Miss Doc had been feeling, since the subject first was broached, thatsomething in her heart would snap. But she worked on, her emotions, yearnings, and fears all rigorously knitted into the tiny mittens. 

"You'll let me wrap him up real warm?" she said. 

Jim knew her thoughts were all on little Skeezucks. 

"If you didn't do it, who would?" he asked, in a kindness of heart thatset her pulse to faster beating. 

"But--s'pose you don't git any job in Fremont, " Bone inquired. "Willyou let us know?"

"I'll git it, don't you fear, " said Jim. "I know there ain't no one soblind as the feller who's always lookin' for a job, but the little kidhas fetched me a sort of second sight. "

"Well, if anything was goin' hard, we'd like for to know, " insistedBone. "I guess we'd better start along, though, now, if we're goin' toscare up a bronch to-night. "

He and the blacksmith departed. Jim and the lorn Miss Doc sat silentlytogether in the warm little house. Jim looked at her quietly, and sawmany phases of womanly beauty in her homely face. 

"Wal, " he drawled, at last, "I'll go up home, on the hill. " Hehesitated for a moment, and then added, quietly, "Miss Doc, you've beenawful kind to the little boy--and me. "

"It wasn't nuthin', " she said. 

They stood there together, beside the table. 

"Yes, it was, " said Jim, "and it's set me to thinkin' a heap. " He wassilent for a moment, as before, and then, somewhat shyly for him, hesaid, "When we come back home here, in the spring, Miss Doc, I'mthinkin' the little feller ought to have a mother. Do you think youcould put up with him--and with me?"

"Jim, " she said, in a voice that shook with emotion, "do you think I'ma kind enough woman?"

"Too kind--for such as me, " said Jim, thickly. He took her hand in hisown, and with something of a courtliness and grace, reminiscent of hisyouth, he raised it to his lips. "Good-night, " he said. "Good-night, Miss Doc. "

"Good-night, Jim, " she answered, and he saw in her eyes the beauty thatGod in his wisdom gives alone to mother-kind. 

And when he had gone she sat there long, forgetting to keep up thefire, forgetting that Doc himself would come home early in the morningfrom his night-employment, forgetting everything personal save thewords old Jim had spoken, as she knitted and knitted, to finish thattiny pair of mittens. 

The night was spent, and her heart was at once glad and sore when, atlast, she concluded her labor of love. Nevertheless, in the morningshe was up in time to prepare a luncheon for Jim to take along, and todelve in her trunk for precious wraps and woollens in which to bundlethe grave little pilgrim, long before old Jim or the horse he wouldride had appeared before the house. 

Little Skeezucks was early awake and dressed. A score of times MissDoc caught him up in her hungering arms, to hold him in fervor to herheart and to kiss his baby cheek. If she cried a little, she made itsound and look like laughter to the child. He patted her face with histiny hand, even as he begged for "Bruvver Jim. "

"You're goin' to find Bruvver Jim, " she said. "You're goin' away fromfussy old me to where you'll be right happy. "

At least a dozen men of the camp came plodding along behind the horse, that arrived at the same time Jim, the pup, and Keno appeared at theDennihan home. 

Doc Dennihan had cut off his customary period of rest and sleep, to saygood-bye, with the others, to the pilgrims about to depart. 

Jim was dressed about as usual for the ride, save that he wore an extrapair of trousers beneath his overalls and a great blanket-coat upon hisback. He was hardy, and he looked it, big as he was and solidlyplanted in his wrinkled boots. 

The sky, despite Webber's predictions of a storm, was practically freefrom clouds, but a breeze was sweeping through the gorge withincreasing strength. It was cold, and the men who stood about ingroups kept their hands in their pockets and their feet on the move forthe sake of the slight degree of warmth thereby afforded. 

As their spokesman, Webber, the blacksmith, took the miner aside. 

"Jim, " said he, producing a buckskin bag, which he dropped in theminer's pocket, "the boys can't do nuthin' fer little Skeezucks whenhe's 'way off up to Fremont, so they've chipped in a little and wantedyou to have it in case of need. "

"But, Webber--" started Jim. 

"Ain't no buts, " interrupted the smith. "You'll hurt their feelin's ifyou go to buttin' and gittin' ornary. "

Wherefore the heavy little bag of coins remained where Webber hadplaced it. 

There were sober words of caution and advice, modest requests for aline now and then, and many an evidence of the hold old Jim had securedon their hearts before the miner finally received the grave andcarefully bundled little Carson from the arms of Miss Doc and came tothe gate to mount his horse and ride away. 

"Jest buckle this strap around me and the little boy, " instructed Jim, as he gave a wide leather belt to the teamster; "then if I happen forto need both hands, he won't be able to git a fall. "

The strap was adjusted about the two in the manner suggested. 

"Good scheme, " commented Field, and the others agreed that it was. 

Then all the rough and awkward big fellows soberly shook the prettylittle pilgrim's hand in its mitten, and said good-bye to the tinychap, who was clinging, as always, to his doll. 

"What you goin' to do with Tinterretter?" inquired the teamster as helooked at the pup, while Jim, with an active swing, mounted to thesaddle. 

"Take him along, " said Jim. "I'll put him in the sack I've got, andtie him on behind the saddle when he gits too much of runnin' on foot. He wouldn't like it to be left behind and Skeezucks gone. "

"Guess that's kerrect, " agreed the teamster. "He's a bully pup, youbet. "

Poor Miss Doc remained inside the gate. Her one mad impulse was to runto Jim, clasp him and the grave little waif in her arms, and beg to betaken on the horse. But repression had long been her habit of life. She smiled, and did not even speak, though the eyes of the fond littlepilgrim were turned upon her in baby affection. 

"Well--you'll git there all right, " said the blacksmith, voicing thehope that swelled in his heart. "So long, and let us know how thelittle feller makes it with the children. "

"By jinks!--so long, " said Keno, striving tremendously to keep down hisrising emotions. "So long. I'll stay by the claim. "

"And give our love to them three little gals, " said Bone. "So long. "

One after another they wrung the big, rough hand, and said "So long" intheir easy way. 

"Bye, Miss Doc, " said Jim, at the last. "Skeezucks--say good-bye--toMiss Doc--and all the boys. Say good-bye. "

The little fellow had heard "good-bye" when the three little caps ofred departed. It came as a word that hurt his tiny heart. But, obediently, he looked about at all his friends. 

"Dood-bye, " he said, in baby accents. "Dood-bye. "

CHAPTER XX

IN THE TOILS OF THE BLIZZARD

Something was tugged and wrenched mighty hard as Jim rode finallyaround the hill, and so out of sight of the meagre little camp hecalled his home, but resolution was strong within him. Up and upthrough the narrow canon, winding tortuously towards the summit, likethe trail of a most prodigious serpent channelled in the snow, thehorse slowly climbed, with Tintoretto, the joyous, busily visiting eachand every portion of the road, behind, before, and at the sides. 

What a world of white it was! The wind had increased, and a fewscattered specks of snow that sped before it seemed trying to musterthe force of a storm, from the sky in which the sun was still shining, between huge rents and spaces that separated scudding clouds. 

It was not, however, until an hour had gone that the flakes began toswirl in fitful flurries. By then the travellers were making bettertime, and Jim was convinced the blotted sun would soon again assert itsmastery over clouds so abruptly accumulated in the sky. The wind, however, had veered about. It came directly in their faces, causingthe horse to lower his head and the pup to sniff in displeasure. 

Little Skeezucks, with his back to the slanting fire of small, hardflakes, nestled in comfort on the big, protecting shoulder, where hefelt secure against all manner of attack. 

For two more hours they rode ahead, while the snow came down somewhatthicker. 

"It can't last, " old Jim said, cheerily, to the child and horse andpup. "Just a blowout. Too fierce and sudden to hold. "

Yet, when they came to the great level valley beyond the second rangeof hills, the biting gale appeared to greet them with a fury pent upfor the purpose. Unobstructed it swept across the desert of snow, flinging not only the shotlike particles from the sky, but also theloose, roving drift, as dry as salt, that lay four inches deep upon thesolider snow that floored the plain. And such miles and miles of thefrozen waste were there! The distant mountains looked like hugewindrows of snow wearing away in the rush of the gale. 

Confident still it was only a flurry, Jim rode on. The pup by now wastrailing behind, his tail less high, his fuzzy coat beginning to fillwith snow, his eyes so pelted that he sneezed to keep them clear. 

The air was cold and piercing as it drove upon them. Jim felt his feetbegin to ache in his hard, leather boots. Beneath his clothing thechill lay thinly against his body, save for the place where littleCarson was strapped to his breast. 

"It can't last, " the man insisted. "Never yet saw a blusterin' stormthat didn't blow itself to nothin' in a hurry. "

But a darkness was flung about them with the thicker snow that flew. Indeed, the flakes were multiplying tremendously. The wind wasbecoming a hurricane. With a roar it rushed across the valley. Theworld of storm suddenly closed in upon them and narrowed down thevisible circle of desolation. Like hurrying troops of incalculableunits, the dots of frozen stuff went sweeping past in a blinding swarm. 

The thing had become a blizzard. Jim halted his horse, convinced thatwisdom prompted them to turn their backs upon the fury and flee againto Borealis, to await a calmer day for travelling. A fiercer buffetingof wind puffed from the west, fiercely toothed with shot of snow. Asif in fear unnamable, a gaunt coyote suddenly appeared scurrying onwardbefore the hail and snow, and was quickly gone. 

The horse shied violently out of the road. The girth of the saddle wasloosened. With a superhuman effort old Jim remained in his seat, buthe knew he must tighten the cinch. Dismounting, he permitted the horseto face away from the gale. The pup came gladly to the shelter of theminer's boots and clambered stiffly up on his leg, for a word ofcompanionship and comfort. 

"All right, " said Jim, giving him a pat on the head when the saddle wasonce more secure in its place; "but I reckon we'll turn back homeward, and I'll walk myself, for a spell, to warm me up. It may let up, andif it does we can head for Fremont again without much loss of time. "

With the bridle-rein over his shoulder, he led the horse back the waythey had come, his own head low on his breast, to avoid the particlesof snow that searched him out persistently. 

They had not plodded homeward far when the miner presently discoveredthey were floundering about in snow-covered brush. He quickly liftedhis head to look about. He could see for a distance of less thantwenty feet in any direction. Mountains, plain--the world ofwhite--had disappeared in the blinding onrush of snow and wind. Achaos of driving particles comprised the universe. And by the token ofthe brush underfoot they had wandered from the road. There had been noattempt on the miner's part to follow any tracks they had left on theirwestward course, for the gale and drift had obliterated every sign, almost as soon as the horse's hoofs had ploughed them in the snow. 

Believing that the narrow road across the desolation of the valley layto the right, he forged ahead in that direction. Soon they came uponsmoother walking, which he thought was an indication that the road theysought was underfoot. It was not. He plodded onward for fifteenminutes, however, before he knew he had made a mistake. 

The storm was, if possible, more furious. The snow flew thicker; itstung more sharply, and seemed to come from every direction. 

"We'll stand right here behind the horse till it quits, " he said. "Itcan't keep up a lick like this. "

But turning about, in an effort to face the animal away from the worstof the blizzard, he kicked a clump of sage brush arched fairly over byits burden of snow. Instantly a startled rabbit leaped from beneaththe shrub and bounded against the horse's legs, and then away in thestorm. In affright the horse jerked madly backward. The bridle wasbroken. It held for a second, then tore away from the animal's headand fell in a heap in the snow. 

"Whoa, boy!--whoa!" said the miner, in a quiet way, but the horse, inhis terror, snorted at the brush and galloped away, to be lost fromsight on the instant. 

For a moment the miner, with his bundled little burden in his arms, started in pursuit of the bronco. But even the animal's tracks in thesnow were being already effaced by the sweep of the powdery gale. Theutter futility of searching for anything was harshly thrust upon theminer's senses. 

They were lost in that valley of snow, cold, and blizzard. 

"We'll have to make a shelter the best we can, " he said, "and waithere, maybe half an hour, till the storm has quit. "

He kicked the snow from a cluster of sagebrush shrubs, and behind thisflimsy barrier presently crouched, with the shivering pup, and with thesilent little foundling in his arms. 

What hours that merciless blizzard raged, no annals of Nevada tell. What struggles the gray old miner made to find his way homeward beforeits wrath, what a fight it was he waged against the elements till nightcame on and the worst of the storm had ceased, could never be known inBorealis. 

But early that night the teamster, Lufkins, was startled by theneighing of a horse, and when he came to the stable, there was thehalf-blinded animal on which old Jim and tiny Skeezucks had ridden awayin the morning--the empty saddle still upon his back. 

CHAPTER XXI

A BED IN THE SNOW

The great stout ore-wagons stood in the snow that lay on the Borealisstreet, with never a horse or a mule to keep them company. Not ananimal fit to bear a man had been left in the camp. But the twenty menwho rode far off in the white desolation out beyond were losing hope asthey searched and searched in the drifts and mounds that lay so deepupon the earth. 

By feeble lantern glows at first, and later by the cold, gray light ofdawn, they scanned the road and the country for miles and miles. Itwas five o'clock, and six in the morning, and still the scatteredcompany of men and horses pushed onward through the snow. 

The quest became one of dread. They almost feared to find the littlegroup. The wind had ceased to blow, but the air was cold. Grayribbons of cloud were stretched across the sky. Desolation waseverywhere--in the heavens, on the plain, on the distant mountains. All the world was snow, dotted only where the mounted men madeinsignificant spots against the waste of white. 

Aching with the cold, aching more in their hearts, the men fromBorealis knew a hundred ways to fear the worst. 

Then at last a shout, and a shot from a pistol, sped to the farthestlimits of the line of searching riders and prodded every drop ofsluggish blood within them to a swift activity. 

The shout and signal had come from Webber, the blacksmith, riding abig, bay mare. Instantly Field, Bone, and Lufkins galloped to where hewas swinging out of his saddle. 

There in the snow, where at last he had floundered down after making aneffort truly heroic to return to Borealis, lay the gray old Jim, withtiny Skeezucks strapped to his breast and hovered by his motionlessarms. In his hands the little mite of a pilgrim held his furry doll. On the snow lay the luncheon Miss Doc had so lovingly prepared. AndTintoretto, the pup, whom nature had made to be joyous and glad, wasprostrate at the miner's feet, with flakes of white all blown throughthe hair of his coat. A narrow little track around the two he loved sowell was beaten in the snow, where time after time the worried littleanimal had circled and circled about the silent forms, in some brave, puppy-wise service of watching and guarding, faithfully maintained tillhe could move no more. 

For a moment after Bone and Lufkins joined him at the spot, theblacksmith stood looking at the half-buried three. The whole tale ofstruggle with the chill, of toiling onward through the heavy snow, offalling over hidden shrubs, of battling for their lives, was somehowrevealed to the silent men by the haggard, death-white face of Jim. 

"They can't--be dead, " said the smith, in a broken voice. "He--couldn't, and--us all--his friends. "

But when he knelt and pushed away some of the snow, the others thoughthis heart had lost all hope. 

It was Field, however, who thought to feel for a pulse. The eagersearchers from farther away had come to the place. A dozen pair ofeyes or more were focussed on the man as he held his breath and feltfor a sign of life. 

"Alive!--He's alive!" he cried, excitedly. "And little Skeezucks, too!For God's sake, boys, let's get them back to camp!"

In a leap of gladness the men let out a mighty cheer. From everysaddle a rolled-up blanket was swiftly cut, and rough but tender handsswept off the snow that clung to the forms of the miner, the child, andthe pup. 

CHAPTER XXII

CLEANING THEIR SLATE

Never could castle or mansion contain more of gladness and joy of theheart than was crowded into the modest little home of Miss Doc when atlast the prayers and ministrations of a score of men and the one"decent" woman of the camp were rewarded by the Father all-pitiful. 

"I'm goin' to bawl, and I'll lick any feller that calls me a baby!"said the blacksmith, but he laughed and "bawled" together. 

They had saved them all, but a mighty quiet Jim and a quieter littleSkeezucks and a wholly subdued little pup lay helpless still in thecare of the awkward squad of nurses. 

And then a council of citizens got together at the dingy shop of Webberfor a talk. "We mustn't fergit, " said the smith, "that Jim was atakin' the poor little feller to Fremont 'cause he thought he waspinin' away fer children's company; and I guess Jim knowed. Now, thequestion is, what we goin' for to do? Little Skeezucks ain't a goin'to be no livelier unless he gits that company--and maybe he'll up anddie of loneliness, after all. Do you fellers think we'd ought to gitup a party and take 'em all to Fremont, as soon as they're able tostand the trip?"

Bone, the bar-keep answered: "What's the matter with gittin' thepreacher and his wife and three little gals to come back here andsettle in Borealis? I'm goin' in for minin', after a while, myself, and I'll--and I'll give my saloon from eight to two on Sundays to befixed all up fer a church; and I reckon we kin support Parson Stowe asslick as any town in all Navady. "

For a moment this astonishing speech was followed by absolute silence. Then, as if with one accord, the men all cheered in admiration. 

"Let's git the parson back right off, " cried the carpenter. "I kinbuild the finest steeple ever was!"

"Send a gang to fetch him here to-day!" said Webber. 

"I wouldn't lose no time, or he may git stuck on Fremont, and neverwant to budge, " added Lufkins. 

Field and half a dozen more concurred. 

"I'll be one to go myself, " said the blacksmith, promptly. "Two orthree others can come along, and we'll git him if we have to stealhim--wife, little gals, and all!"

But the party was yet unformed for the trip when the news of thecouncil's intentions was spread throughout the camp, and an uglyfeature of the life in the mines was revealed. 

The gambler, Parky, sufficiently recovered from the wound in his arm tobe out of his house, and planning a secret revenge against old Jim andhis friends, was more than merely opposed to the plan which had comefrom the shop of Webber. 

"It don't go down, " said he to a crowd, with a sneer at the parson andwith oaths for Bone. "I own some Borealis property myself, and don'tyou fergit I'll make things too hot for any preacher to settle in thecamp. And I 'ain't yet finished with the gang that thought they wassmart on New-Year's eve--just chew that up with your cud of tobacker!"

With half a dozen ruffians at his back--the scum of prisons, gambling-dens, and low resorts--he summed up a menace not to beestimated lightly. Many citizens feared to incur his wrath; many wereweak, and therefore as likely to gather to his side as not, under thepressure he could put upon them. 

The camp was suddenly ripe for a struggle. Right and decency, orlawlessness and violence would speedily conquer. There could be nohalf-way measures. If Webber and his following had been persuadedbefore that Parson Stowe should have a place in the town, they weregrimly determined on the project now. 

The blacksmith it was who strung up once again a bar of steel beforehis shop and rang it with his hammer. 

There were forty men who answered to the summons. And when they hadfinished the council of war within the shop, the work of an upward lifthad been accomplished. A supplement was added to the work of signing ashort petition requesting Parson Stowe to come among them, and thislatter took the form of a mandate addressed to the gambler and hisbacking of outlaws, thieves, and roughs. It was brief, but the weightof its words was mighty. 

"The space you're using in Borealis is wanted for decenter purposes, "it read. "We give you twenty-four hours to clear out. Git!--and thenGod have mercy on your souls if any one of the gang is found inBorealis!"

This was all there was, except for a fearful drawing of a coffin and askull. And such an array of inky names, scrawled with obvious painsand distinctness, was on the paper that argument itself was plainlyhand in hand with a noose of rope. 

Opposition to an army of forty wrathful and determined men would havebeen but suicide. Parky nodded when he read the note. He knew thegame was closed. He sold all his interests in the camp for what theywould bring and bought a pair of horses and a carriage. 

In groups and pairs his henchmen--suddenly thrown over by their leaderto hustle for themselves--sneaked away from the town, many of themleaving immediately in their dread of the grim reign of law now comeupon the camp. Parky, for his part, waited in some deliberation, andthen drove away with a sneer upon his lips when at last his time wasgrowing uncomfortably short. 

Decency had won--the moral slate of the camp was clean!

CHAPTER XXIII

A DAY OF JOY

There came a day--never to be forgotten in the annals ofBorealis--when, to the ringing of the bar of steel, Parson Stowe, withhis pretty little wife and the three little red-capped youngsters, rodeonce more into town to make their home with their big, rough friends. 

Fifty awkward men of the mines roared lustily with cheering. Fiftygreat voices then combined in a sweet, old song that rang through thesnow-clad hills:

 "Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on. The night is dark, and I am far from home, Lead Thou me on. "

And the first official acts of the wholesome young parson wereconducted in the "church" that Bone had given to the town when thehappy little Skeezucks was christened "Carson Boone" and the drawlingold Jim and the fond Miss Doc were united as man and wife. 

"If only I'd known what a heart she's got, I'd asked her before, " theminer drawled. "But, boys, it's never too late to pray for sense. "

The moment of it all, however, which the men would remember till thefinal call of the trumpet was that in which the three little girls, intheir bright-red caps, came in at the door of the Dennihan home. Theywould never forget the look on the face of their motherless, quaintlittle waif as he held forth both his tiny arms to the vision and criedout:

"Bruvver Jim!"

THE END