"Yis, the 'J' be his'n," muttered the old man, as he spelled out the
word J-o-h-n, "and the big 'N' be as plain as an otter-trail in the
snow. The boy don't make his letters over plain, as I conceit, but the
'J' and the 'N' be his'n." And then he paused for a full minute, his
head bowed over the box. "The boy don't forgit," he murmured, and he
wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "The boy don't forgit." And
then he added, "No, he isn't one of the forgittin' kind. Wild Bill,"
said the Trapper, as he turned toward that personage, whose attack on
the venison haunch was as determined as ever, "Wild Bill, this box be
from Henry!"
"I shouldn't wonder," answered that individual, speaking from a mass
of edibles that filled his mouth.
"And it be a Christmas gift!" continued the old man.
"It looks so," returned Bill, as laconically as before.
"And it be a mighty heavy box!" said the Trapper.
"You'd 'a' thought so, if you had dragged it over the mile-and-a-half
carry. It was good sleddin' on the river, but the carry took the stuff
out of me."
"Very like, very like," responded the Trapper; "fur the gullies be
deep on the carry, and it must have been slippery haulin'. Didn't ye
git a leetle 'arnest in yer feelin's, Bill, afore ye got to the top of
the last ridge?"
"Old man," answered Bill, as he wheeled his chair toward the Trapper,
with a pint cup of tea in the one hand, and wiping his mustache with
the coat sleeve of the other, "I got it to the top three times, or
within a dozen feet from the top, and each time it got away from me
and went to the bottom agin; for the roots was slippery, and I
couldn't git a grip on the toe of my moccasins; but I held on to the
rope, and I got to the bottom neck and neck with the sled every time."
"Ye did well, ye did well," responded the Trapper, laughing; "for a
loaded sled goes down hill mighty fast when the slide is a steep un,
and a man who gits to the bottom as quick as the sled must have a good
grip, and be considerably in 'arnest. But ye got her up finally by the
same path, didn't ye?"
"Yes, I got her up," returned Bill. "The fourth time I went for that
ridge, I fetched her to the top, for I was madder than a hornet."
"And what did ye do, Bill?" continued the Trapper. "What did ye do
when ye got to the top?"
"I jest tied that sled to a sapling so it wouldn't git away agin, and
I got on to the top of that box, and I talked to that gulch a minit or
two in a way that satisfied my feelings."
"I shouldn't wonder," answered the Trapper, laughing, "fur ye must
have ben a good deal riled. But ye did well to git the box through,
and ye got here in time, and ye've 'arnt yer wages; and now, ef ye'll
tell me how much I am to pay ye, ye shall have yer money, and ye
needn't scrimp yerself on the price, Wild Bill, for the drag has been
a hard un; so tell me yer price, and I'll count ye out the money."
"Old man," answered Bill, "I didn't bring that box through for money,
and I won't take a--"
Perhaps Wild Bill was about to emphasize his refusal by some verbal
addition to the simple statement, but, if it was his intention, he
checked himself, and said, "a cent."
"It's well said," answered the Trapper; "yis, it's well said, and does
jestice to yer feelin's, I don't doubt; but an extra pair of breeches
one of these days wouldn't hurt ye, and the money won't come amiss."
"I tell ye, old man," returned Wild Bill earnestly, "I won't take a
cent. I'll allow there's several colors in my trousers, for I've
patched in a dozen different pieces off and on, and I doubt, as ye
hint, if the patching holds together much longer; but I've eaten at
your table and slept in your cabin more than once, John Norton, and
whether I've come to it sober or drunk, your door was never shut in my
face; and I don't forget either that the man who sent you that box
fished me from the creek one day, when I had walked into it with two
bottles of the Dutchman's whisky in my pocket, and not one cent of
your money or his will I take for bringing the box in to you."
"Have it yer own way, ef ye will," said the Trapper; "but I won't
forgit the deed ye have did, and the boy won't forgit it neither.
Come, let's clear away the vict'als, and we'll open the box. It's
sartinly a big un, and I would like to see what he has put inside of
it."
The opening of the box was a spectacle such as gladdens the heart to
see. At such moments the countenance of the Trapper was as facile in
the changefulness of its expression as that of a child. The passing
feelings of his soul found an adequate mirror in his face, as the
white clouds of a summer day find full reflection in the depth of a
tranquil lake. He was not too old or too learned to be wise, for the
wisdom of hearty happiness was his,--the wisdom of being glad, and
gladly showing it.
As for Wild Bill, the best of his nature was in the ascendant, and
with the curiosity and pleasure of a child, and a happiness as sincere
as if the box were his own, he assisted at the opening.
"The man who made this box did the work in a workmanlike fashion,"
said the Trapper, as he strove to insert the edge of his hatchet into
the jointing of the cover, "fur he shet these boards together like the
teeth of a bear trap when the bars be well 'iled. It's a pity the boy
didn't send him along with the box, Wild Bill, fur it sartinly looks
as ef we should have to kindle a fire on it, and burn a hole in
through the kiver."
At last, by dint of great exertion, and with the assistance of Wild
Bill and the poker, the cover of the box was wrenched off, and the
contents were partially revealed.
"Glory to God, Wild Bill!" exclaimed the Trapper. "Here be yer
breeches!" and he held up a pair of pantaloons made of the stoutest
Scotch stuff. "Yis, here be yer breeches, fur here on the waistband be
pinned a bit of paper, and on it be written, 'Fur Wild Bill.' And here
be a vest to match; and here be a jacket; and here be two pairs of
socks in the pocket of the jacket; and here be two woolen shirts, one
packed away in each sleeve. And here!" shouted the old man, as he
turned up the lapel of the coat, "Wild Bill, look here! Here be a
five-dollar note!" and the old man swung one of the socks over his
head, and shouted, "Hurrah for Wild Bill!" And the two hounds,
catching the enthusiasm of their master, lifted their muzzles into the
air, and bayed deep and long, till the cabin fairly shook with the
joyful uproar of man and dogs.
It is doubtful if any gift ever took the recipient more by surprise
than this bestowed upon Wild Bill. It is true that, judged by the law
of strict deserts, the poor fellow had not deserved much of the world,
and certainly the world had not forgotten to be strictly just in his
case, for it had not given him much. It is a question if he had ever
received a gift before in all his life, certainly not one of any
considerable value. His reception of this generous and thoughtful
provision for his wants was characteristic both of his training and
his nature.
The Old Trapper, as he ended his cheering, flung the pantaloons, the
vest, the jacket, the socks, the shirts, and the money into his lap.
For a moment the poor fellow sat looking at the warm and costly
garments that he held in his hands, silent in an astonishment too
profound for speech, and then, recovering the use of his organs, he
gasped forth:--
"I swear!" and then broke down, and sobbed like a child.
The Trapper, kneeling beside the box, looked at the poor fellow with a
face radiant with happiness, while his mouth was stretched with
laughter, utterly unconscious that tears were brimming his own eyes.
"Old Trapper," said Wild Bill, rising to his feet, and holding the
garments forth in his hands, "this is the first present I ever
received in my life. I have been kicked and cussed, sneered at and
taunted, and I deserved it all. But no man ever gave me a lift, or
showed he cared a cent whether I starved or froze, lived or died. You
know, John Norton, what a fool I've been, and what has ruined me, and
that when sober I'm more of a man than many who hoot me. And here I
swear, old man, that while a button is on this jacket, or two threads
of these breeches hold together, I'll never touch a drop of liquor,
sick or well, living or dying, so help me God! and there's my hand on
it."
"Amen!" exclaimed the Trapper, as he sprang to his feet, and clasped
in his own strong palm the hand that the other had stretched out to
him. "The Lord in His marcy be nigh ye when tempted, Bill, and keep ye
true to yer pledge!"
Of all the pleasant sights that the angels of God, looking from their
high homes, saw on earth that Christmas Eve, perhaps not one was
dearer in their eyes than the spectacle here described,--the two
sturdy men standing with their hands clasped in solemn pledge of the
reformation of the one, and the helping sympathy of the other, above
that Christmas box in the cabin in the woods.
It is not necessary to follow in detail the Trapper's further
examination of the box. The reader's imagination, assisted by many a
happy reminiscence, will enable him to realize the scene. There was a
small keg of powder, a large plug of lead, a little chest of tea, a
bag of sugar, and also one of coffee. There were nails, matches,
thread, buttons, a woolen under-jacket, a pair of mittens, and a cap
of choicest fur, made of an otter's skin that Henry himself had
trapped a year before. All these and other packages were taken out one
by one, carefully examined, and characteristically commented on by the
Trapper, and passed to Wild Bill, who in turn inspected and commented
on them, and then laid them carefully on the table. Beneath these
packages was a thin board, constituting a sort of division between its
upper and lower half.
"There seems to be a sort of cellar to this box," said the Trapper, as
he sat looking at the division. "I shouldn't be surprised ef the boy
himself was in here somewhere, so be ready, Bill, fur anything, fur
the Lord only knows what's underneath this board." Saying which, the
old man thrust his hand under one end of the division, and pulled out
a bundle loosely tied with a string, which became unfastened as the
Trapper lifted the roll from its place in the box, and, as he shook it
open, and held its contents at arm's length up to the light, the
startled eyes of Wild Bill, and the earnest gaze of the Trapper,
beheld a woman's dress!
"Heavens and 'arth, Bill!" exclaimed the Trapper, "what's this?" And
then a flash of light crossed his face, in the illumination of which
the look of wonder vanished, and, dropping upon his knees, he flung
the dividing board out of the box, and his companion and himself saw
at a glance what was underneath.
Children's shoes, and dresses of warmest stuffs; tippets and mittens;
a full suit for a little boy, boots and all; a jackknife and whistle;
two dolls dressed in brave finery, with flaxen hair and blue eyes; a
little hatchet; a huge ball of yarn, and a hundred and one things
needed in the household; and underneath all a Bible; and under that a
silver star on a blue field, and pinned to the silk a scrap of paper,
on which was written,--
"Hang this over the picture of the lad."
"Ay, ay," said the Trapper in a tremulous voice, as he looked at the
silver star, "it shall be done as ye say, boy; but the lad has got
beyend the clouds, and is walkin' a trail that is lighted from eend to
eend by a light clearer and brighter than ever come from the shinin'
of any star. I hope we may be found worthy to walk it with him, boy,
when we, too, have come to the edge of the Great Clearin'."
To the Trapper it was perfectly evident for whom the contents of the
box were intended; but the sender had left nothing in doubt, for, when
the old man had lifted from the floor the board that he had flung out,
he discovered some writing traced with heavy penciling on the wood,
and which without much effort he spelled out to Wild Bill,--
"Give these on Christmas Day to the woman at the dismal hut, and a
merry Christmas to you all."
"Ay, ay," said the Trapper, "it shall be did, barrin' accident, as ye
say; and a merry Christmas it'll make fur us all. Lord-a-massy! what
_will_ the poor woman say when she and her leetle uns git these warm
garments on? There be no trouble about fillin' the basket now; no, I
sartinly can't git half of the stuff in. Wild Bill, I guess ye'll have
to do some more sleddin' to-morrow, fur these presents must go over
the mountain in the mornin', ef we have to harness up the pups." And
then he told his companion of the poor woman and the children, and his
intended visit to them on the morrow.
"I fear," he said, "that they be havin' a hard time of it, 'specially
ef her husband has desarted her."
"Little good he would do her, if he was with her," answered Wild Bill,
"for he's a lazy knave when he is sober, and a thief as well, as you
and I know, John Norton; for he's fingered our traps more than once,
and swapped the skins for liquor at the Dutchman's; but he's thieved
once too many times, for the folks in the settlement has ketched him
in the act, and they put him in the jail for six months, as I heard
day before yesterday."
"I'm glad on't; yis, I'm glad on't," answered the Trapper; "and I hope
they'll keep him there till they've larnt him how to work. I've had my
eye on the knave for a good while, and the last time I seed him I told
him ef he fingered any more of my traps, I'd larn him the commandments
in a way he wouldn't forgit; and, as I had him in hand, and felt a
leetle like talkin' that mornin', I gin him a piece of my mind,
techin' his treatment of his wife and leetle uns, that he didn't
relish, I fancy, fur he winced and squirmed like a fox in a trap. Yis,
I'm glad they've got the knave, and I hope they'll keep him till he's
answered fur his misdoin'; but I'm sartinly afeered the poor woman be
havin' a hard time of it."
"I fear so, too," answered Wild Bill; "and if I can do anything to
help you in your plans, jest say the word, and I'm your man to back or
haul, jest as you want me."
And so it was arranged that they should go over the mountain together
on the morrow, and take the provisions and the gifts that were in the
box to the poor woman. And, after talking awhile of the happiness
their visit would give, the two men, happy in their thoughts, and with
their hearts full of that peace which passeth the understanding of the
selfish, laid themselves down to sleep; and over the two,--the one
drawing to the close of an honorable and well-spent life, the other
standing at the middle of a hitherto useless existence, but facing the
future with a noble resolution,--over the two, as they slept, the
angels of Christmas kept their watch.