e little guest from the berth, flung a blanket about them, sneaked
swiftly out of the cabin, stole around to its rear, and ran with
long-legged awkwardness down through a shallow ravine to the cover of a
huge heap of bowlders, where he paused to finish his toilet.

"Hoot! Hoot!" sounded furtively from somewhere near. Then Keno came
ducking towards him from below, with Tintoretto in his wake, so
rampantly glad in his puppy heart that he instantly climbed on the
timid little Skeezucks, sitting for convenience on the earth, and
bowled him head over heels.

"Here, pup, you abate yourself," said Jim. "Be solemnly glad and let
it go at that." And he took up the gasping little chap, whose doll
was, as ever, clasped fondly to his heart.

"How'd you make it?" inquired Keno. "Has she gone for good?"

"No, she's gone for water," answered the miner, ruefully. "She's set
on cleanin' up the cabin. I'll bet when she's finished we'll have to
pan the gravel mighty careful to find even a color of our once happy
home."

"Well, you got away, anyhow," said Keno, consolingly. "You can't have
your cake and eat it too."

"No, that's the one nasty thing about cake," said Jim. He sat on a
rock and addressed the wondering little pilgrim, who was watching his
face with baby gravity. "Did she scare the boy?" he asked. "Is he
gittin' hungry? Does pardner want some breakfast?"

The little fellow nodded.

"What would little Skeezucks like old brother Jim to make for
breakfast?"

The quaint bit of a man drew a trifle closer to the rough old coat and
timidly answered:

"Bwead--an'--milk."

The two men started mildly.

"By jinks!" said the awe-smitten Keno. "By jinks!--talkin'!"

"I told you so," said Jim, suppressing his excitement. "Bread and
milk?" he repeated. "Just bread and milk. You poor little shaver!
Wal, that's as easy as oyster stew or apple-dumplin'. Baby want
anything else?"

The small boy shook a negative.

"By jinks!" said Keno, as before. "Look at him go it!"

"I'll make some bread to-day, if ever we git back into Eden," said Jim.
"And I'll make him a lot of things. If only I had the stuff in me I'd
make him a Noah's ark and a train of cars and a fat mince-pie. Would
little Skeezucks like a train of cars?"

Again the little pilgrim shook his head.

"Then what more would the baby like?" coaxed the miner.

Again with his shy little cuddling up the wee man answered,
"Moey--bwead--an'--milk."

"