Keno, anxiously.

Jim looked long at his tiny foundling dressed in the nightie that came
below 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 fiercely
before he spoke again. Then he said, "Miss Doc is a sort of female
doctor. She knows lots of female things."

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

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

The boots of the men could be heard, as they creaked on the crisply
frozen snow, before the visitors arrived at the door. Keno let them
in, and with them an oreole of chill and freshness flavored spicily of
winter. 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, and
iron melting hot, to warm the shop. The tree looks great. She's all
lit up, and the doors all shut to make it dark, and you bet she's a
gem--a gorgeous gem--ain't she, fellers?"

The others agreed that it was.

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

"Wal, some might think so," Jim replied, unwilling to concede that the
tiny man in the bunk was far too ill to join in the cheer so early in
the day. "But the afternoon is the regular parliamentary time, and,
anyway, little Skeezucks 'ain't had his breakfast, boys, and--we want
to 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's
in the Cole, Cole Ground.'"

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

"Well, we'll tell 'em," agreed the disappointed Lufkins. "What time do
you 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 kn