Bruvver Jims Baby | Page 6

color that was coming away in blotches, emerged from
the process of washing and gazed with his big, brown eyes at his
foster-parent, in a way that made the miner weak with surprise. Such a
pretty and wistful little armful of a boy he was certain had never been

seen before in all the world.
"I snum! I certainly snum!" he said again. "I'll have to take you right
straight down to the boys!"
At this the little fellow looked at him appealingly. His lip began to
tremble.
"No-body--wants--me," he said, in baby accents,
"no-body--wants--me--anywhere."
CHAPTER III
THE WAY TO MAKE A DOLL
For a moment after the quaint little pilgrim had spoken, the miner
stared at him almost in awe. Had a gold nugget dropped at his feet from
the sky his amazement could scarcely have been greater.
"What's that?" he said. "Nobody wants you, little boy? What's the
matter with me and the pup?" And taking the tiny chap up in his arms
he sat in the doorway and held him snugly to his rough, old heart and
rocked back and forth, in a tumult of feeling that nothing could express.
"Little pard," he said, "you bet me and Tintoretto want you, right here."
For his part, Tintoretto thumped the house and the step and the miner's
shins with the clumsy tail that was wagging his whole puppy body.
Then he clambered up and pushed his awkward paws in the little
youngster's face, and licked his ear and otherwise overwhelmed him
with attentions, till his master pushed him off. At this he growled and
began to chew the big, rough hand that suppressed his demonstrations.
In lieu of the ears of the rabbit to which he had clung throughout the
night, the silent little man on the miner's knee was holding now to Jim's
enormous fist, which he found conveniently supplied. He said nothing
more, and for quite a time old Jim was content to watch his baby face.

"A white little kid--that nobody wants--but me and Tintoretto," he
mused, aloud, but to himself. "Where did you come from, pardner,
anyhow?"
The tiny foundling made no reply. He simply looked at the thin, kindly
face of his big protector in his quaint, baby way, but kept his solemn
little mouth peculiarly closed.
The miner tried a score of questions, tenderly, coaxingly, but never a
thing save that confident clinging to his hand and a nod or a shake of
the head resulted.
By some means, quite his own, the man appeared to realize that the
grave little fellow had never prattled as children usually do, and that
what he had said had been spoken with difficulties, only overcome by
stress of emotion. The mystery of whence a bit of a boy so tiny could
have come, and who he was, especially after his baby statement that
nobody wanted him, anywhere, remained unbroken, after all the miner's
queries. Jim was at length obliged to give it up.
"Do you like that little dog?" he said, as Tintoretto renewed his
overtures of companionship. "Do you like old brother Jim and the
pup?"
Solemnly the little pilgrim nodded.
"Want some breakfast, all pretty, in our own little house?"
Once more the quaint and grave little nod was forthcoming.
"All right. We'll have it bustin' hot in the shake of a crockery animal's
tail," announced the miner.
He carried the mite of a man inside and placed him again in the bunk,
where the little fellow found his rabbit and drew it into his arms.
The banquet proved to be a repetition of the supper of the night before,
except that two great flapjacks were added to the menu, greased with

fat from the bacon and sprinkled a half-inch thick with soft brown
sugar.
When the cook fetched his hungry little guest to the board the rabbit
came as well.
"You ought to have a dolly," decided Jim, with a knowing nod. "If only
I had the ingenuity I could make one, sure," and throughout the meal he
was planning the manufacture of something that should beat the whole
wide world for cleverness.
The result of his cogitation was that he took no time for washing the
dishes after breakfast, but went to work at once to make a doll. The
initial step was to take the hide from the rabbit. Sadly but unresistingly
the little pilgrim resigned his pet, and never expected again to possess
the comfort of its fur against his face.
With the skin presently rolled up in a nice light form, however, the
miner was back in the cabin, looking for something of which to fashion
a body and head for the lady-to-be. There seemed to be nothing handy,
till he thought of a peeled potato for the lady's head and