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."
"By jinks!" repeated the flabbergasted Keno, and he pulled at his
sleeves with all his strength.
"Say, Keno," said Jim, "go find Miss Doc's goat and milk him for the
boy."
"Miss Doc may be home by now," objected Keno, apprehensively.
"Well, then, sneak up and see if she has gone off real mad."
"S'posen she 'ain't?" Keno promptly hedged. "S'posen she seen me?"
"You've got all out-doors to skedaddle in, I reckon."
Keno, however, had many objections to any manner of venture with the
wily Miss Dennihan. It took nearly half an hour of argument to get him
up to the brow of the slope. Then, to his uncontainable delight, he
beheld the disgusted and somewhat defeated Miss Doc more than half-way
down the trail to Borealis, and making shoe-tracks with assuring
rapidity.
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