in time to prepare a luncheon for Jim to take along, and to
delve in her trunk for precious wraps and woollens in which to bundle
the grave little pilgrim, long before old Jim or the horse he would
ride had appeared before the house.

Little Skeezucks was early awake and dressed. A score of times Miss
Doc caught him up in her hungering arms, to hold him in fervor to her
heart and to kiss his baby cheek. If she cried a little, she made it
sound and look like laughter to the child. He patted her face with his
tiny hand, even as he begged for "Bruvver Jim."

"You're goin' to find Bruvver Jim," she said. "You're goin' away from
fussy 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 the
Dennihan home.

Doc Dennihan had cut off his customary period of rest and sleep, to say
good-bye, with the others, to the pilgrims about to depart.

Jim was dressed about as usual for the ride, save that he wore an extra
pair of trousers beneath his overalls and a great blanket-coat upon his
back. He was hardy, and he looked it, big as he was and solidly
planted in his wrinkled boots.

The sky, despite Webber's predictions of a storm, was practically free
from clouds, but a breeze was sweeping through the gorge with
increasing strength. It was cold, and the men who stood about in
groups kept their hands in their pockets and their feet on the move for
the 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 the
miner's pocket, "the boys can't do nuthin' fer little Skeezucks when
he's 'way off up to Fremont, so they've chipped in a little and wanted
you to have it in case of need."

"But, Webber--" started Jim.

"Ain't no buts," interrupted the smith. "You'll hurt their feelin's if
you go to buttin' and gittin' ornary."

Wherefore the heavy little bag of coins remained where Webber had
placed it.

There were sober words of caution and advice, modest requests for a
line now and then, and many an evidence of the hold old Jim had secured
on their hearts before the miner finally received the grave and
carefully bundled little Carson from the arms of Miss Doc and came to
the gate to mount his horse and ride away.

"Jest buckle this strap around me and the little boy," inst