The mite of a boy took her hungrily to his arms, and Jim was peculiarly affected.

“Do you want to give her a name?” he said.

Slowly the quaint little pilgrim shook his head.

“Have you got a name?” the miner inquired, as he had a dozen times before.

This time a timid nod was forthcoming.

“Oh,” said Jim, in suppressed delight.  “What is your nice little name?”

For a moment coyness overtook the tiny man.  Then he faintly replied, “Nu-thans.”

“Nuisance?” repeated the miner, and again he saw the timid little nod.

“But that ain’t a name,” said Jim.  “Is ‘Nuisance’ all the name the baby’s got?”

His bit of a guest seemed to think very hard, but at last he nodded as before.

“Well, string my pearls,” said the miner to himself, “if somebody ’ain’t been mean and low!” He added, cheerfully, “Wal, it’s easier to live down a poor name than it is to live up to a fine one, any day, but we’ll name you somethin’ else, I reckon, right away.  And ain’t that dolly nice?”

The two were in the midst of appreciating the charms of her ladyship when the cabin door was abruptly opened and in came a coatless, fat, little, red-headed man, puffing like a bellows and pulling down his shirtsleeves with a great expenditure of energy, only to have them immediately crawl back to his elbows.

“Hullo, Keno,” drawled the lanky Jim.  “I thought you was mad and gone away and died.”

“Me?  Not me!” puffed the visitor.

“What’s that?” and he nodded himself nearly off his balance towards the tiny guest he saw upon a stool.

With a somewhat belated bark, Tintoretto suddenly came out from his boot-chewing contest underneath the table and gave the new-comer an apoplectic start.

“Hey!” he cried.  “Hey!  By jinks! a whole menajry!”

“That’s the pup,” said Jim.  “And, Keno, here’s a poor little skeezucks that I found a-sittin’ in the brush, ’way over to Coyote Valley.  I fetched him home last night, and I was just about to take him down to camp and show him to the boys.”

“By jinks!” said Keno.  “Alive!”

“Alive and smart as mustard,” said the suddenly proud possessor of a genuine surprise.  “You bet he’s smart!  I’ve often noticed how there never yet was any other kind of a baby.  That’s one consolation left to every fool man livin’—­he was once the smartest baby in the world,”

“Alive!” repeated Keno, as before.  “I’m goin’ right down and tell the camp!”

He bolted out at the door like a shot, and ran down the hill to Borealis with all his might.

Aware that the news would be spread like a sprinkle of rain, the lanky Jim put on his hat with a certain jaunty air of importance, and taking the grave little man on his arm, with the new-made doll and the pup for company, he followed, where Keno had just disappeared from view, down the slope.