Part 21

For an hour Jack worked busily and happily. All that he had bought for his “family” he carried into the cabin; then, opening cases of his own supplies, he carried in canned goods, dried fruit, a ham, some sugar, coffee, and a package of tea. When he had finished, he gazed about the little room and smiled. “Mighty near filled the cabin,” he said. “Reckon some flour won’t be amiss, and I’ve a good notion to fill that new lamp and leave it on the table, lighted. They’re coming back soon, or they wouldn’t have left fire. There’s the coat and the lamp for the woman; candy, nuts and dolls for the kids; provisions for ’em all, but not a thing for that boy. I just can’t do him that way. He can have my new gun.”

Jack went out to the wagon and brought in the shotgun, and hanging the cap on the muzzle, leaned it against the wall. Then he put his boxes of ammunition on the floor beside it. Finally, he filled the stove full of wood, and closing it carefully, left the cabin.

The dusk was deepening when he mounted his wagon. Beyond Henry’s Fork, he met the Culbersons returning with their guest; he eyed them sharply as they passed. After he had crossed the bottoms and was out on the snow-covered flat, he laughed happily.

“It beat throwing them into the creek,” he said, “and the boy is just right for the gun!”

* * * * *

As soon as the family and their guest crossed the creek and reached the plateau they saw the light of the bright new lamp.

“Oh, Pa’s come, our Pa’s come home for Christmas!” shouted Henry Clay, joyously.

“Don’t be so excited, Henry Clay. You tend to driving them dunkeys, or you will have Mis’ Clark dumped off in the snow. That’d be a fine way to treat a neighbor, wouldn’t it? You children quit twisting round. If any of you fall off, you’ll have to walk to the house.”

Thus admonished, the children sat as still as they could. Henry Clay tried to get the donkeys to hurry, but donkeys have ways of their own. At last they drew up before the door of the cabin. The children would have rushed into the cabin, but their mother restrained them.

“My goodness, children, where are your manners? Pa’s made a fire; don’t you see the smoke? You just behave yourselves.”

Once inside, the little group stood amazed. The new lamp burned brightly; boxes, bundles and packages were scattered everywhere about the place. Grandma Clark, stiff with the cold, went at once to the stove. The fire burned merrily. She held her hands to the grateful warmth, and said, “Your man’s a right good provider, Mis’ Culberson.”

“But where’s Pa?” asked C’listie.

A thorough search revealed no Pa. On a new calendar, which lay on the table, were scribbled these words: “The gun is for the boy. The rest is for all of you. Yours truly, Santy Claus.”

An hour later supper was over; even hungry little C’listie could hold no more ham, and sat nodding and hugging a wonderful doll. Henry Clay and Lizzie Isabel had put the donkeys into the stable, and given them an extra allowance of grain and carrots. With shining eyes and heart too happy for words, Henry Clay sat examining his treasure, the bright, new gun. The girls were rapturously sorting their new ribbons, hoods, and books. Mrs. Culberson, busy storing yet unopened packages beneath the bed, said to the girls:

“I _did_ ’low for you girls to sleep under the blazin’-star quilt, being it’s Christmas time, but I ain’t going to let you. It ain’t never been used, and I’m going to keep that quilt for Santa Claus. I’ll see him some time.”

[27] This story was first printed in “Youth’s Companion,” December 10, 1914. Reprinted by special permission. All rights reserved by the author.

Transcriber's Notes:

Italics are shown thus: _sloping_.

Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained.

Perceived typographical errors have been changed.