Miss Doc!--Miss Dennihan! She must have stolen his foundling!

Her recent climb to his cabin, her protracted stay, her baffled
curiosity--these were ample explanation for the trick she must have
played! How easily she might have watched the place, slipped in the
moment the cabin was left unguarded, and carried off the little pilgrim!

Jim knew she would glory in such a revenge. She probably cared not a
whit for the child, but to score against himself, for defeating her
purpose when she called, she would doubtless have gone to any possible
length.

The miner was enraged, but a second later a great gush of thankfulness
and relief surged upward in his heart. At least, the little man would
not have been out all night in the hills! Then growing sick in turn,
he thought this explanation would be too good to be true. It was
madness--only a hope! He clung to it tenaciously, however, then gave
it up, only to snatch it back again in desperation as he hastened home
to his cabin.

"Keno, wake up," he cried to his lodger, shaking him briskly by the
shoulder. "Keno! Keno!"

"What's the matter? Time for breakfast?" asked Keno, drowsily, risking
only half an eye with which to look about. "Why not call me gently?"

"Get up!" commanded Jim. "I have thought of where little Skeezucks has
gone!"