The sharp, metallic notes rang out with every stroke. The bar was swaying like a pendulum. Blow after blow the man delivered, filling all the hollows of the hills with wild alarm.
Out of saloons and houses men came sauntering, or running, according to the tension of their nerves. Many thought some house must be afire. At least thirty men were presently gathered at the place of summons. With five or six informers to tell the news of Jim's bereavement, all were soon aware of what was making the trouble. But none had seen the tiny foundling since they bade him good-bye in the charge of Jim himself.
"Are you plum dead sure he's went?" said Webber, the smith. "Did you look all over the cabin?"
"Everywhere," said Jim. "He's gone!"
"Wal, maybe some mystery got him," suggested Bone. "Jim, you don't suppose his father, or some one who lost him, come and nabbed him while you was gone?"
They saw old Jim turn pale in the light that came from across the street.
Keno broke in with an answer.
"By jinks! Jim was his mother! Jim had more good rights to the little feller than anybody, livin' or dead!"
"You bet!" agreed a voice.
Jim spoke with difficulty.