ow what's a-comin'."

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

"I ain't sayin' nothin'," added Lufkins, with the most significant
smile, "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 at
the shop of the smith.

The big, rough men did wait patiently, expectantly, loyally. Blowing
out the candles, to save them for the moment when the tiny child should
come, they sat around, or stood about, or wandered back and forth, each
togged out in his very best, each with a new touch of Christmas meaning
in 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, plates
on plates of pickles, cans of fruit preserves, a mighty pan of cold
baked 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 for
nearly twenty-four hours, went back to the table and feasted his eyes
on the spread. At length he took and ate a pickle. From that, at
length, his gaze went longingly to Keno's pie. How one little pie
could 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 on
the pie. But how it came to be shied through the window, practically
intact, half a moment later, was never explained to the waiting crowd.

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

"We can't take him down," said the miner, at last. "He ought to have a
woman'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 know
what 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 boy
could 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 more
than I can give. He needs--a mother. I didn't