m kind of scared to see another come along."

"I should think to-night is pretty near holiday enough," said the
altered Miss Doc. "Our little boy has come 'round delightful."

"Kerrect," said Bone. "But if us old cusses could see him sort of
laughin' and crowin' it would do us heaps of good."

"Give him time," said the teamster. "Some of the sickenest crowin' I
ever heard was let out too soon."

The carpenter said, "You jest leave him alone with these here blocks
for a day or two, if you want to hear him laugh."

"'Ain't we all laughed at them things enough to suit you yit?" inquired
Bone. "Some people would want you to laugh at their funeral, I reckon."

"Wal, laughin' ain't everything there is worth the havin'," Jim
drawled. "Some people's laughin' has made me ashamed, and some has
made me walk with a limp, and some has made me fightin' mad. When
little Skeezucks starts it off--I reckon it's goin' to make me a boy
again, goin' in swimmin' and eatin' bread-and-molasses."

For the next few days, however, Jim and the others were content to see
the signs of returning baby strength that came to little Skeezucks.
That the clearing away of the leaden clouds, and the coming of beauty
and sunshine, pure and dazzling, had a magical effect upon the tiny
chap, as well as on themselves, the men were all convinced. And the
camp, one afternoon, underwent a wholly novel and unexpected sensation
of delight.

A man, with his sweet, young wife and three small, bright-faced
children, came driving to Borealis. With two big horses steaming in
the crystal air and blowing great, white clouds of mist from their
nostrils, with wheels rimmed deeply by the snow between the spokes,
with colored wraps and mittened hands, and three red worsted caps upon
the children's heads, the vision coming up the one straight street was
quite enough to warm up every heart in town.

The rig drew up in front of the blacksmith-shop, and twenty men came
walking 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 rolled
up, and his big, hairy arms akimbo. "Pleasant day. You're needin'
somethin' fixed, I see," and he nodded quietly towards a road-side job
of 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