ere were nearly twenty men
in the delegation, representing every shade of inelegance. Indeed,
they demonstrated beyond all argument that the ways of looking rough
and unkempt are infinite. There were tall and short who were rough,
bearded and shaved who were rougher, and washed and unwashed who were
roughest. And there were still many denizens of Borealis not then on
exhibition.

Webber, the blacksmith; Lufkins, the teamster; Bone, the "barkeep";
Dunn, the carpenter, and Field, who had first discovered precious ore
at Borealis, and sold out his claims for a gold watch and chain--which
subsequently proved to be brass--all these and many another shining
light of the camp could be counted in the modest assemblage gathered
together 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 had
occurred. In the first place, it was almost incredible that old
"If-only" Jim had actually made his long-threatened pilgrimage to fetch
his promised pup, but to have him back here, not only with the dog in
question, but also with a tiny youngster found at the edge of the
wilderness, was far too much to comprehend.

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

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

Not by any means consenting to permit old Jim to understand how
astonis