eous whimper. "Take--Uvin Chal!" it beseeched Bud with voice and
starlike blue eyes together. "Take!"

There was that in the baby's tone, in the unbaby-like insistence of its
bright eyes, which compelled obedience. Bud had never taken a baby of
that age in his arms. He was always in fear of dropping it, or crushing
it with his man's strength, or something. He liked them--at a safe
distance. He would chuck one under the chin, or feel diffidently the
soft little cheek, but a closer familiarity scared him. Yet when this
baby wriggled its other arm loose and demanded him to take, Bud reached
out and grasped its plump little red-sweatered body firmly under the
armpits and drew it forth, squirming with eagerness.

"Well, I'll tell the world I don't blame yuh for wanting to git outa
that hog's nest," said Bud, answering the baby's gleeful chuckle.

Freed from his detaining grip on her shoulder, the squaw ducked
unexpectedly and scuttled away down the trail as fast as her old legs
would carry her; which was surprisingly speedy for one of her bulk. Bud
had opened his mouth to ask her again where she had gotten that baby. He
left it open while he stared after her astonished until the baby put up
a hand over one of Bud's eyes and said "Pik-k?" with that distracting
little quirk at the corners of its lips.

"You son of a gun!" grinned Bud, in the tone that turned the epithet
in to a caress. "You dog gone little devil, you! Pik-k! then, if that's
what you want."

The squaw had disappeared into the thick under growth, leaving a track
like a hippo in the snow. Bud could have overtaken her, of course, and
he could have made her take the baby back again. But he could not face
the thought of it. He made no move at all toward pursuit, but instead he
turned his face toward Alpine, with some vague intention of turning the
baby over to the hotel woman there and getting the authorities to hunt
up its parents. It was plain enough that the squaw had no right to it,
else she would not have run off like that.

Bud walked at least a rod toward Alpine before he swung short around in
his tracks and started the other way. "No, I'll be doggoned if I will!"
he said. "You can't tell about women, no time. She might spank the kid,
or something. Or maybe she wouldn't feed it enough. Anyway, it's too
cold, and it's going to storm pretty pronto. Hey! Yuh cold, old-timer?"

The baby whimpered a little and snuggled its face down against Bud's
chest. So