more than you can start a turtle runnin' to a fire," drawled Jim,
sagely.

"Then, kin he walk?" insisted the bar-keep.

Jim said, "What do you s'pose he's wearin' pants for, if he couldn't?"

"Put him down and leave us see him, then."

"This ain't no place for a child to be walkin' 'round loose," objected
the gray old miner. "He'll walk some other time."

"Aw, put him down," coaxed the smith. "We'd like to see a little
feller walk. There's never bin no such a sight in Borealis."

"Yes, put him down!" chorused the crowd.

"We'll give him plenty of elbow-room," added Webber. "Git back there,
boys, and give him a show."

As the group could be satisfied with nothing less, and Jim was aware of
their softer feelings, he disengaged the tiny hand that was closed on
his collar and placed his tiny charge upon his feet in the road.

How very small, indeed, he looked in his quaint little trousers and his
old fur cap!

Instantly he threw the one little arm not engaged with the furry doll
about the big, dusty knee of his known protector, and buried his face
in the folds of the rough, blue overalls.