squirrel. And, oh!--it was deplorable--but how he could swear!

At length some of the miners, seeing the boy must come to some bad
end if not taken care of, put their heads and their pockets together
and sent the children to school. This school was a mile away over
the beautiful brown hills, a long, pleasant walk under the green
California oaks.

Well, Jim would take the little tin dinner bucket, and his slate, and
all their books under his arm and go booming ahead about half a mile
in advance, while Madge with brown Little Stumps clinging to her side
like a burr, would come stepping along the trail under the oak-trees
as fast as she could after him.

But if a jack-rabbit, or a deer, or a fox crossed Jim's path, no
matter how late it was, or how the teacher had threatened him, he
would drop books, lunch, slate and all, and spitting on his hands and
rolling up his sleeves, would bound away after it, yelling like a
wild Indian. And some days, so fascinating was the chase, Jim did
not appear at the schoolhouse at all; and of course Madge and Stumps
played truant too. Sometimes a week together would pass and the
Keene children would not be seen at the schoolhouse. Visits from the
schoolmaster produced no lasting effect. The children would come for a
day or two, then be seen no more. The schoolmaster and their father at
last had a serious talk about the matter.

"What _can_ I do with him?" said Mr. Keene.

"You'll have to put him to work," said the schoolmaster. "Set him to
hunting nuggets instead of bird's-nests. I guess what the boy wants is
some honest means of using his strength. He's a good boy, Mr. Keene;
don't despair of him. Jim would be proud to be an 'honest miner.'
Jim's a good boy, Mr. Keene."

"Well, then, thank you, Schoolmaster," said Mr. Keene. "Jim's a good
boy; and Madge is good, Mr. Schoolmaster; and poor starved and stunted
motherless Little Stumps, he is good as gold, Mr. Schoolmaster. And I
want to be a mother to 'em--I want to be father and mother to 'em all,
Mr. Schoolmaster. And I'll follow your advice. I'll put 'em all to
work a-huntin' for gold."

The next day away up on the hillside under a pleasant oak, where
the air was sweet and cool, and the ground soft and dotted over with
flowers, the tender-hearted old man that wanted to be "father and
mother both," "located" a claim. The flowers were kept fresh by a
little stream of waste water from the ditch that girded the brow of
the hill abov