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"What's the matter with 'Swing Low, Sweet Cheery O'?" inquired Lufkins. "Suits me," Jim replied. "Steam up." He and the teamster, in duet, joined very soon by all the congregation, sang over and over the only lines they could conjure back to memory, and even these came forth in remarkable variety.
A narrow little track around the two he loved so well was beaten in the snow, where time after time the worried little animal had circled and circled about the silent forms, in some brave, puppy-wise service of watching and guarding, faithfully maintained till he could move no more. For a moment after Bone and Lufkins joined him at the spot, the blacksmith stood looking at the half-buried three.
"Mebbe we ought to begin with Sunday-school," suggested the blacksmith. "That would sort of get us ready for the real she-bang." "How do you do it?" inquired Lufkins, the teamster. "Oh, it's just mostly catechism," Jim imparted, sagely. "And what's catechism?" said Bone. "Catechism," drawled the miner, "is where you ask a lot of questions that only the children can answer."
"All right, but if you change your mind it won't be no trouble at all," and, not a little disappointed, the smith waved once more to the little pilgrim on the miner's arm and went back down the hill. Then up spoke Keno. "Bone and Lufkins both wanted me to tell you, Jim, if you happen to want a change fer little Skeezucks, you can fetch him down to them," he said.
Father, when Thou sendest Thy blessing for this little child, send enough for all the boys. Amen." And so the evening ended, and the night moved in majesty across the mountains. In the morning, soon after breakfasts were eaten, and Jim and the preacher had come again to the home of the Dennihans, Webber, the blacksmith, and Lufkins, the teamster, presently arrived with the horses and carriage.
So you won't bring him down this mornin'?" "Well, we'll tell 'em," agreed the disappointed Lufkins. "What time do you think you'll fetch the little shaver, then, this afternoon?" "I guess about twelve," said Jim. "How's he feelin'?" inquired the carpenter. "Wal, he don't know how to feel on Christmas yet," answered the miner, evasively. "He doesn't know what's a-comin'."
"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 chunk dropped out of heaven," volunteered Keno, pulling at his sleeves.
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