ence of the child, especially as Tintoretto
bounded clumsily forward and bowled his own shaking effigy of a canine
endways in one glad burst of friendship.

The black-and-tan let out a feeble yelp. With his boot the gambler
threw Tintoretto six feet away, where he landed on his feet and turned
about growling and barking in puppywise questioning of this sudden
manoeuvre. With a few more staccato yelps, the shivering black-and-tan
retreated behind the gambler's legs.

"Of all the ugly brutes I ever seen," said Parky, "that's the worst
yellow flea-trap of the whole caboose."

"Wal, I don't know," drawled Jim, as he patted his timid little pilgrim
on the back in a way of comfort. "All dogs look alike to a flea, and I
reckon Tintoretto is as good flea-feed as the next. And, anyhow, I
wouldn't have a dog the fleas had deserted. When the fleas desert a
dog, it's the same as when the rats desert a ship. About that time a
dog has lost his doghood, and then he ain't no better than a man who's
lost his manhood."

"Aw, I'd thump you and the cur together if you didn't have that kid on
deck," sneered the gambler.

"You couldn't thump a drum," answered Jim, easily. "Come back here,
Tintoretto. Don't you touch that skinny little critter with the
shakes. I wouldn't let you eat no such a sugar-coated insect."

The crowd was enjoying the set-to of words immensely. They now looked
to Parky for something hot. But the man of card-skill had little wit
of words.

"Don't git too funny, old boy," he cautioned. "I'd just as soon have
you for breakfast as not."

"I wish the fleas could say as much for you or your imitation dog,"
retorted Jim. "There's just three things in Borealis that go around
smellin' thick of perfume, and you and that little two-ounce package of
dog-degeneration are maybe some worse than the other."

Parky made a belligerent motion, but Webber, the blacksmith, caught his
arm in a powerful grip.

"Not to-day," he said. "The boys don't want no gun-play here this
mornin'."

"You're a lot of old women and babies," said Parky, and pushing through
the group he walked away, a certain graceful insolence in his bearing.

"Speakin' of catfish," said Field, "we ought to git up some kind of a
celebration to welcome Jim's little skeezucks to the camp."

"That's the ticket," agreed Bone. "What's the matter with repeatin'
the programme we had for the Fourth of July?"

"No, we want somethin' new," objected the