every heart in the camp. His townsmen knew he had once had a good
education, for outcroppings thereof jutted from his personality even as
his cheek-bones jutted out of his russet old countenance.

Not by any means consenting to permit old Jim to understand how
astonishment 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."