Bruvver Jim's Baby Read online

  CHAPTER X

  PREPARATIONS FOR CHRISTMAS

  When the word spread 'round that Jim and the quaint little foundlingwere once more united, the story of the episode at Miss Doc's homenecessarily followed to make the tale complete. Immensely relieved andgrateful, to know that no dire calamity had befallen the camp's firstand only child, the rough men nevertheless lost no time in conceivingthe outcome to be fairly amusing.

  "You kin bet that Doc was awake all the time, and listenin', as long asJim was there," said Bone, "but six yoke of oxen couldn't 'a' draggedhis two eyes open, or him out of bed, to mingle in the ceremonies."

  To prevent a recurrence of similar descents upon his household, Jimarranged his plans in such a manner that the timid little Skeezucksshould never again be left alone. Indeed, the gray old miner hardlyever permitted the little chap to be out of his sight. Hour by hour,day by day, he remained at his cabin, playing with the child, tellinghim stories, asking him questions, making him promises of all thewonderful toys and playthings he would manufacture soon.

  Once in a while the little fellow spoke. That utterance came withdifficulty to his lips was obvious. He must always have been a silent,backward little fellow, and sad, as children rarely become at an age sotender. Of who or what he was he gave no clew. He seemed to have noreal name, to remember no parents, to feel no confidence in anythingsave "Bruvver Jim" and Tintoretto.

  In the course of a week a number of names had been suggested for thetiny bit of a stranger, but none could suit the taste of Jim. Hewaited still for a truant inspiration, and meanwhile "Skeezucks" camedaily more and more into use among the men of Borealis.

  It was during this time that a parcel arrived at the cabin from thehome of Miss Doc. It was fetched to the hill by Doc himself, who saidit was sent by his sister. He departed at once, to avoid thediscussion which he felt its contents might occasion.

  On tearing it open old Jim was not a little amazed to discover a lot oflittle garments, fashioned to the size of tiny Skeezucks, with all theskill which lies--at nature's second thought--in the hand of woman.Neat little undergarments, white little frocks, a something that theminer felt by instinct was a "nightie," and two pairs of the smallestof stockings rewarded the overhauling of the package, and left Jimmomentarily speechless.

  "By jinks!" said Keno, pulling down his sleeves, "them are awful smallfer us!"

  "If only I had the time," drawled Jim, "I'd take 'em back to Miss Docand throw them in her yard. We don't need anybody sewin' for littleSkeezucks. I was meanin' to make him somethin' better than thesemyself."

  "Oh!" said Keno. "Well, we could give 'em to the pup. He'd like toplay with them little duds."

  "No; I'll try 'em on the little boy tonight," reflected Jim, "and then,if we find they ain't a fit, why, I'll either send 'em back or cut 'emapart and sew 'em all over and make 'em do."

  But once he had tried them on, their fate was sealed. They remained asmuch a part of the tiny man as did his furry doll. Indeed, they werepresently almost forgotten, for December being well advanced, the onegreat topic of conversation now was the Christmas celebration to beheld for the camp's one little child.

  Ten of the big, rough citizens had come one evening to the cabin on thehill, to settle on some of the details of what they should do. Thetiny pilgrim, whom they all regarded so fondly, had gone to sleep andJim had placed him in his bunk. In the chimney a glowing fire droveaway the chill of the wintry air.

  "Speakin' of catfish, of course we'll hang up his stockin'," saidField. "Christmas wouldn't be no Christmas without a stockin'."

  "Stockin'!" echoed the blacksmith. "We'll have to hang up aminin'-shaft, I reckon, for to hold all the things."

  "I'm goin' to make him a kind of kaliderscope myself, or maybe two orthree," said one modest individual, stroking his chin.

  Dunn, the most unworkman-like carpenter that ever built a crookedhouse, declared it was his intention to fashion a whole set ofalphabetical blocks of prodigious size and unearthly beauty.

  "Well, I can't make so much in the way of fancy fixin's, but you jestwait and see," said another.

  The blacksmith darkly hinted at wonders evolving beneath the curlyabundance of his hair, and Lufkins likewise kept his purposes tohimself.

  "I s'pose we'd ought to have a tree," said Jim. "We could make aChristmas-tree look like the Garden of Eden before Mrs. Adam began toeat the ornaments."

  "That's the ticket," Webber agreed. "That's sure the boss racket ofthem all."

  "We couldn't git no tree into this shanty," objected Field. "Thisplace ain't big enough to hold a Christmas puddin'."

  "Of course it is," said the carpenter. "It's ten foot ten by eighteenfoot six inches, or I can't do no guessin'."

  "That 'mount of space couldn't hold jest me, on Christmas," estimatedthe teamster.

  "And the whole camp sure will want to come," added another.

  "'Ceptin' Miss Doc," suggested Webber.

  "'Ceptin' Miss Doc," agreed the previous speaker.

  "Then why not have the tree down yonder, into Webber's shop, same aschurch?" asked Field. "We could git the whole camp in there."

  This was acclaimed a thought of genius.

  "It suits me down to the ground," said Jim, with whom all ultimatedecision lay, by right of his foster-parenthood of little Skeezucks,"only I don't see so plain where we're goin' to git the tree. We'reburnin' all the biggest brush around Borealis, and there ain't agenuine Christmas-tree in forty miles."

  The truth of this observation fell like a dampened blanket on all thecompany.

  "That's so," said Webber. "That's just the luck!"

  "There's a bunch of willers and alders by the spring," suggested ahopeful person.

  "You pore, pitiful cuss," said Field. "You couldn't have seen noChristmas-tree in all your infancy."

  "If only I had the time," drawled Jim, "I'd go across to the Pinyonmountains and git a tree. Perhaps I can do that yet."

  "If you'd do that, Jim, that would be the biggest present of the lot,"said Webber. "You wouldn't have to do nuthin' more."'

  "Wal, I'm goin' to make a Noah's ark full of animals, anyway," saidJim. "Also a few cars and boats and a big tin horn--if only I've gotthe activity."

  "But we'll reckon on you for the tree," insisted the blacksmith."Then, of course, we want a great big Christmas dinner."

  "What are you goin' to do fer a turkey?" inquired Field.

  "And rich brown gravy?" added the carpenter.

  "And cranberry sauce and mince-pie?" supplemented Lufkins.

  "Well, maybe we could git a rabbit for the turkey," answered the smith.

  "And, by jinks! I kin make a lemon-pie that tastes like a chunkdropped out of heaven," volunteered Keno, pulling at his sleeves.

  "But what about that rich brown gravy?" queried the carpenter.

  "Smoky White can dish up the slickest dough-nuts you ever slapped yourlip onto," informed the modest individual who stroked his chin.

  "We can have pertatoes and beans and slapjacks on the side," a hopefulminer reminded the company.

  "You bet. Don't you worry; we can trot out a regular banquet," Fieldassured them, optimistically. "S'posen we don't have turkey andcranberry sauce and a big mince-pie?"

  "I'd like that rich brown gravy," murmured the carpenter--"good andthick and rich and brown."

  "We could rig up a big, long table in the shop," planned theblacksmith, "and put a hundred candles everywhere, and have the treeall blazin' with lights, and you bet things would be gorgeous."

  "If we git the tree," said Lufkins.

  "And the rabbit fer a turkey," added a friend.

  "Well, by jinks! you'll git the lemon-pie all right, if you don't gitnuthin' else," declared little Keno.

  "If only I can plan it out I'll fetch the tree," said Jim. "I'd liketo do that for the little boy."

  "Jim's an awful clever ole cuss," said Field, trusting to work somebenefit by a judicious application of flattery. "It ain't
every manwhich knows the kind of a tree to chop. Not all trees isChristmas-trees. But ole Jim is a clever ole duck, you bet."

  "Wal," drawled Jim, "I never suspect my own intelligence till a manbegins to tell me I'm a clever old duck. Still, I reckon I ain'tover-likely to cut no cherry-trees over to the Pinyon hills."

  "The celebration's comin' to a head in bully style, that's the mainconcern," said the teamster. "I s'pose we'd better begin to invite allthe boys?"

  "If all of 'em come," suggested a listener, "that one jack-rabbitsettin' up playin' turkey will look awful sick."

  "I'd hate to git left on the gravy," added the carpenter--"if there'sgoin' to be any gravy."

  "Aw, we'll have buckets of grub," said the smith. "We'll ask 'em allto 'please bring refreshments,' same as they do in families where theynever git a good square meal except at surprise-parties and birthdayblow-outs. Don't you fear about the feed."

  "Well, we ought to git the jig to goin'," suggested Field. "Lots ofthe boys needs a good fair warnin' when they're goin' to tackle cookin'grub for a Christmas dinner. I vote we git out of here and go downhill and talk the racket up."

  This motion was carried at once. The boys filed out with heartygood-nights, and wended their way down the slope, with the bite of thefrosted air at their ears.

  Then Jim, at the very thought of travelling forty miles to fetch a treefor Christmas gayeties, sat down before his fire to take a rest.