"Moey--bwead--an'--milk."

"By jinks!" repeated the flabbergasted Keno, and he pulled at his
sleeves with all his strength.

"Say, Keno," said Jim, "go find Miss Doc's goat and milk him for the
boy."

"Miss Doc may be home by now," objected Keno, apprehensively.

"Well, then, sneak up and see if she has gone off real mad."

"S'posen she 'ain't?" Keno promptly hedged. "S'posen she seen me?"

"You've got all out-doors to skedaddle in, I reckon."

Keno, however, had many objections to any manner of venture with the
wily Miss Dennihan. It took nearly half an hour of argument to get him
up to the brow of the slope. Then, to his uncontainable delight, he
beheld the disgusted and somewhat defeated Miss Doc more than half-way
down the trail to Borealis, and making shoe-tracks with assuring
rapidity.

"Hoot! Hoot!" he called, in a cautious utterance. "She's went, and
the cabin looks just the same--from here."

But Jim, when he came there, with his tiny guest upon his arm, looked
long at the well-scrubbed floor and the tidy array of pots, pans,
plates, and cups.