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.

"If any one did that"--he faltered--"why, boys, he never should have
let me find him in the brush."

"Are you plum dead sure he's went?" insisted the blacksmith, whom the
news had somewhat stunned.

"I thought perhaps you fellows might have played a joke--taken him off
to see me run around," said Jim, with a faint attempt at a smile.
"'Ain't you got him, boys--all the time?"

"Aw, no, he'd be too scared," said Bone. "We know he'd be scared of
any one of us."

"It ain't so much that," said Field, "but I shouldn't wonder if his
father, or some other feller just as good, came and took him off."

"Of course his father would have the right," said Jim, haltingly,