The strap was adjusted about the two in the manner suggested.
"Good scheme," commented Field, and the others agreed that it was.
Then all the rough and awkward big fellows soberly shook the pretty little pilgrim's hand in its mitten, and said good-bye to the tiny chap, who was clinging, as always, to his doll.
"What you goin' to do with Tinterretter?" inquired the teamster as he looked at the pup, while Jim, with an active swing, mounted to the saddle.
"Take him along," said Jim. "I'll put him in the sack I've got, and tie him on behind the saddle when he gits too much of runnin' on foot. He wouldn't like it to be left behind and Skeezucks gone."
"Guess that's kerrect," agreed the teamster. "He's a bully pup, you bet."
Poor Miss Doc remained inside the gate. Her one mad impulse was to run to Jim, clasp him and the grave little waif in her arms, and beg to be taken on the horse. But repression had long been her habit of life. She smiled, and did not even speak, though the eyes of the fond little pilgrim were turned upon her in baby affection.
"Well—you'll git there all right," said the blacksmith, voicing the hope that swelled in his heart. "So long, and let us know how the little feller makes it with the children."
"By jinks!—so long," said Keno, striving tremendously to keep down his rising emotions. "So long. I'll stay by the claim."
"And give our love to them three little gals," said Bone. "So long."