Little Skeezucks, however, waked in a mood of lethargy not to be fathomed by mere affection. Not only did he turn away at the mere suggestion of eating, but he feebly hid his face and gave a little moan. "He ain't no better," Jim announced, putting down a breakfast-dish with its cargo quite untasted. "I wish we had a little bit of medicine." "What kind?" said the worried Keno. "It wouldn't make much difference," answered the miner. "Anything is medicine that a doctor prescribes, even if it's only sugar-and-water." "But there ain't a doctor into camp," objected Keno, hauling at his sleeves. "And the one they had in Bullionville has went away, and he was fifty miles from here." "I know," said Jim. "You don't think he's sick?" inquired Keno, anxiously. Jim looked long at his tiny foundling dressed in the nightie that came below his feet. A dull, heavy look was in the little fellow's eyes, half closed and listless. "He ain't no better," the miner repeated. "I don't know what to do." Keno hesitated, coughed once or twice, and stirred the fire fiercely before he spoke again. Then he said, "Miss Doc is a sort of female doctor. She knows lots of female things." "Yes, but she can't work 'em off on the boy," said Jim. "He ain't big enough to stand it." "No, I don't suppose he is," agreed Keno, going to the window, on which he breathed, to melt away the frosty foliage of ice. "I think there's some of the boys a-comin'--yep--three or four." The boots of the men could be heard, as they creaked on the crisply frozen snow, before the visitors arrived at the door. Keno let them in, and with them an oreole of chill and freshness flavored spicily of winter. There were three--the carpenter, Bone, and Lufkins. "How's the little shaver?" Bone inquired at once. "About the same," said Jim. "And how's the tree?" "All ready," answered Lufkins. "Old Webber's got a bully fire, and iron melting hot, to warm the shop. The tree looks great. She's all lit up, and the doors all shut to make it dark, and you bet she's a gem--a gorgeous gem--ain't she, fellers?" The others agreed that it was. "And the boys are nearly all on deck," resumed the teamster, "and Webber wanted to know if the morning--Christmas morning--ain't the time for to fetch the boy." "Wal, some might think so," Jim replied, unwilling to concede that the tiny man in the bunk was far too ill to join in the cheer so early in the day. "But the afternoon is the regular parliamentary time, and, anyway, little Skeezucks 'ain't had his breakfast, boys, and--we want to be sure the shop is good and warm." "The boys is all waitin' fer to give three cheers," said the carpenter, "and we're goin' to surprise you with a Christmas song called 'Massa's in the Cole, Cole Ground.'" "Shut up!" said Bone; "you're givin' it all away. So you won't bring him down this mornin'?"