And this was deemed enough of a story when the ten half-frozen men had
secured the claim to Jim and his that New-Year's morning.
But the camp regretted on the whole that, instead of being shelved at
his house, the gambler had not been slain.
For nearly a week the wan little foundling, emerging from the vale of
shadows at the home of Miss Dennihan, lay as if debating, in his grave,
baby way, the pros and cons of existence. And even when, at last, he
was well on the road to recovery, he somehow seemed more quiet than
ever before.
The rough old "boys" of the town could not, by any process of their
fertile brains, find an adequate means of expressing their relief and
delight when they knew at last the quaint little fellow was again
himself.
They came to Miss Dennihan's in groups, with brand-new presents and
with wonderful spirits. They played on the floor like so many
well-meaning bears; they threatened to fetch their poor, neglected
Christmas-tree from the blacksmith-shop; they urged Miss Doc to start a
candy-pull, a night-school, a dancing-class, and a game of
blindman's-buff forthwith. Moreover, not a few discovered traces of
beauty and sweetness in the face of the formerly plain, severe old
maid, and slyly one or two began a species of courtship.
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