hment was oozing from their every pore, the men brought forth by
Keno's news could not, however, entirely mask their incredulity and
interest. As Jim came deliberately down the trail, with the pale
little foundling on his arm, he was greeted with every possible term of
familiarity, to all of which he drawled a response in kind.

Not a few in the group of citizens pulled off their hats at the nearer
approach of the child, then somewhat sheepishly put them on again.
With stoical resolutions almost immediately upset, they gathered
closely in about the miner and his tiny companion, crowding the
red-headed Keno away from his place of honor next to the child.

The quaint little pilgrim, in his old, fur cap and long, "man's"
trousers, looked at the men in a grave way of doubt and questioning.

"It's a sure enough kid, all the same," said one of the men, as if he
had previously entertained some doubts of the matter. "And ain't he
white!"

"Of course a white kid's white," answered the barkeep, scornfully.

"Awful cute little shaver," said another. "By cracky, Jim, you must
have had him up yer sleeve for a week! He don't look more'n about one
week old."

"Aw, listen to the man afraid to know anything about anything!" broke
in the blacksmith. "One week! He's four or five months, or I'm a
woodchuck."

"You kin tell by his teeth," suggested a leathery individual, stroking
his bony jaw knowingly. "I used to be up on the game myself, but I'm a
little out of practice jest at present."

"Shut up, you scare him, Shaky," admonished the teamster. "He's a
pretty little chipmunk. Jim, wherever did you git him?"

Jim explained every detail of his trip to fetch the pup, stretching out
his story of finding the child and bringing him hither, with pride in
every item of his wonderful performance. His audience listened with
profound attention, broken only by an occasional exclamation.

"Old If-only Jim! Old son-of-a-sea-cook!" repeated one, time after
time.

Meanwhile the silent little man himself was clinging to the miner's
flannel collar with all his baby strength. With shy little glances he
scanned the members of the group, and held the tighter to the one safe
anchorage in which he seemed to feel a confidence. A number of the
rough men furtively attempted a bit of coquetry, to win the favor of a
smile.

"You don't mean, Jim, you found him jest a-settin' right in the bresh,
with them dead jack-rabbits lyin' all 'round