On all their manoeuvres the little convalescent looked with grave
curiosity. Such antics he had surely never seen. Pale and silent, as
he sat on Jim's big knee one evening, he watched the men intently,
their crude attempts at his entertainment furnishing an obvious puzzle
to his tiny mind. Then presently he looked with wonder and awe at the
presents, unable to understand that all this wealth of bottles, cubes,
tops, balls, and wagons was his own.
The carpenter was spelling "cat" and "dog" and "Jim" with the blocks,
while Field was rolling the balls on the floor and others were
demonstrating the beauties and functions of kaleidoscopes and endless
other offerings; but through it all the pale little guest of the camp
still held with undiminished fervor to the doll that Jim had made when
first he came to Borealis.
"We'd ought to git up another big Christmas," said the blacksmith,
standing with his arms akimbo. "He didn't have no holidays worth a
cent."
"We could roll 'em all into one," suggested Field--"Christmas, New
Year's, St. Valentine's, and Fourth of July."
"What's the matter with Washington's birthday?" Bone inquired.
"And mine?" added Keno, pulling down his sleeves. "By jinks! it comes
next week.
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