But with food in the house old Jim was again at ease, so much so,
indeed, that he quite forgot to begin that promised work upon his
claim. He had never worked except when dire necessity made resting no
longer possible, and then only long enough to secure the wherewithal
for sufficient food to last him through another period of sitting
around to think. If thinking upon subjects of no importance whatsoever
had been a lucrative employment, Jim would certainly have accumulated
the wealth of the whole wide world.
He took his pick in his hands the following day, but placed it again in
its corner, slowly, after a moment's examination of its blunted steel.
Three days went by. The weather was colder. Bitter winds and frowning
clouds were hastening somewhere to a conclave of the wintry elements.
It was four days only to Christmas. Neither the promised Noah's ark to
present to tiny Skeezucks nor the Christmas-tree on which the men had
planned to hang their gifts was one whit nearer to realization than as
if they had never been suggested.
Meantime, once again the food-supply was nearly gone. Keno kept the
pile of fuel reasonably high, but cheer was not so prevalent in the
cabin as to ask for further room. The grave little pilgrim was just a
trifle quieter and less inclined to eat.
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