And he showed an alarming inclination to invert himself for the amusement of the child, but she did not seem to grasp the meaning of the offer. She fixed her eyes upon Ruggles, who made bold by what seemed a favorable sign, took a step forward and invitingly extended his hands. She debated for a moment, whether to meet the proffer and then with the impulsiveness of infancy leaned toward him. With a thrill of pleasure the grizzled miner carefully placed his huge arms underneath hers, and lifted her as if she were a doll from 23 her father’s knee. As he did so, every one saw the big tears trickling down his cheeks.
“I can’t help it, boys,” he said apologetically; “the last child I held in these arms was my own Jennie, and she was dead.”
With infinite affection, he pressed his bearded lips against the chubby cheek, while she, relieved of all fear, flung her dimpled arms about his neck and kissed him in return. With one hand, she lifted the flapping hat from his head and with the other smoothed away the luxuriant hair from his forehead.
“I like you ever so much, but you are crying,” she said sympathetically; “what makes you do that? Haven’t you got a little girl like me?”
“No, my precious child; I once had just such a sweet tot as you, but the good Lord took her from me, and I love you just as I loved her.”
“And that’s what we all are going to do,” remarked Ike Hoe, with a sniff as he drew his sleeve across his eyes; “this beats anything in the history of New Constantinople, by seven hundred and eighty-four thousand majority.”
“Come, Wade, you must be fair with us,” said the landlord, reaching out his arms; “we all claim an equal share in her.”
The miner felt the truth of this, and without a word relinquished the treasure. Drawing his handkerchief, he 24 wiped his eyes clear of their mist and jealously followed the surrendered one as she was fondled in turn by the others. First one and then another, until she had completed the round. All had something pleasant to say to her and she replied in her sweet innocent way, causing laughter and winning her path straight to the hearts of the hardy fellows, to whom such endearments had been unknown for years, but whose better natures were stirred by the presence of the child, as if she were in reality an angel sent from heaven.
Felix Brush had purposely left his turn for the last, hoping thereby to retain her longer than his friends. After chatting with her for a moment and repeating some rigmarole that set her laughing, followed by the request for him to say it again, he stood her on the bar. Then he danced in front of her, swung his arms like a jumping-jack, and told some outlandish fairy story from the stock that no one had ever suspected he possessed.
“Can you stand on your head?” asked Nellie, rippling over with fun.