"I'm goin' to bawl, and I'll lick any feller that calls me a baby!"
said the blacksmith, but he laughed and "bawled" together.
They had saved them all, but a mighty quiet Jim and a quieter little
Skeezucks and a wholly subdued little pup lay helpless still in the
care of the awkward squad of nurses.
And then a council of citizens got together at the dingy shop of Webber
for a talk. "We mustn't fergit," said the smith, "that Jim was a
takin' the poor little feller to Fremont 'cause he thought he was
pinin' away fer children's company; and I guess Jim knowed. Now, the
question is, what we goin' for to do? Little Skeezucks ain't a goin'
to be no livelier unless he gits that company--and maybe he'll up and
die of loneliness, after all. Do you fellers think we'd ought to git
up a party and take 'em all to Fremont, as soon as they're able to
stand the trip?"
Bone, the bar-keep answered: "What's the matter with gittin' the
preacher and his wife and three little gals to come back here and
settle in Borealis? I'm goin' in for minin', after a while, myself,
and I'll--and I'll give my saloon from eight to two on Sundays to be
fixed all up fer a church; and I reckon we kin support Parson Stowe as
slick as any town in all Navady.
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