II.

It was on the day before Christmas, and the sun was at its meridian.

It was a day of brilliance and prophecy, and the prophecy which the

Trapper read in the intense sky and vivid brightness of the sun's

light told him of coming storm.

"Yis," muttered the old man, as he stood just outside the doorway of

his cabin and carefully studied the signs of forest and sky, "yis,

this is a weather breeder for sartin. I smell it in the air. The light

is onnaterally bright and the woods onnaterally still. Snow will be

flyin' afore another sunrise, and the woods will roar like the great

lakes in a gale. I am sorry that it's comin', for some will be kept

from the dinner. It's sartinly strange that the orderin' of the Lord

is as it is, for a leetle more hurryin' and a leetle more stayin' on

His part of the things that happen on the 'arth would make mortals a

good deal happier, as I conceit."

Aye, aye, John Norton; a little more hurrying and a little more

staying of things that happen on the earth would make mortals much

happier. The great ship that is to-day a wreck would be sailing the

sea, and the faces that stare ghastly white from its depths would be

rosy with life's happy health. The flowers on her tomb would be twined

in the bride's glossy hair, and the tower that now stands half builded

would go on to its finishing. The dry fountain would still be in play

and the leafless tree would stand green in its beauty and bloom. Who

shall read us the riddle of the ordering in this world? Who shall

read the riddle, O man of whitened head, O woman whose life is but a

memory, who shall read us the Trapper's riddle, I say?

"There comes Wild Bill," exclaimed the Trapper joyfully, "and one

plate will have its eater for sartin." And the old man laughed at the

recollection of his companion's appetite. "Lord-a-massy! that box on

his sled is as big as the ark. I wonder ef he has got a drove of

animils in it."

Had the Trapper known the closeness of his guess as to the contents of

the huge box he would have marveled at his guessing, for there

certainly were animals in the box and of a sort that usually are noisy

enough and sure, at the least provocation, to proclaim their name and

nature.

But every animal, whether wild or domesticated, has its habits, and

many of the noisiest of mouths, when the mood is on them, can be as

dumb as a sphinx, and as Wild Bill came shuffling up on his snowshoes,

with a box of goodly size lashed to his sled, not a sound proceeded

therefrom. It is needless to record that the greeting between the two

men was most hearty. How delightful is the meeting of men of the

woods! Manly are they in life and manly in their greeting.

"What have ye in the box, Bill?" queried the Trapper good-naturedly.

"It's big enough to hold a church bell, and a good part of the steeple

beside."

"It's a Christmas present for you, John Norton," replied Bill

gleefully. "You don't think I would come to your cabin to-day and not

bring a present, do you?"

"Gift or no gift, yer welcome would be the same," answered the

Trapper, "for yer heart and yer shootin' be both right, and ye will

find the door of my cabin open at yer comin', whether ye come full

handed or empty, sober or drunk, Wild Bill."

"I haven't touched a drop for twelve months," responded the other.

"The pledge I gave you above the Christmas box in your cabin here last

Christmas eve I have kept, and shall keep to the end, John Norton."

"I expected it of ye, yis, I sartinly expected it of ye, Bill, for ye

came of good stock. Yer granther fit in the Revolution, and a man's

word gits its value a good deal from his breedin', as I conceit,"

replied the Trapper. "But what have ye in the box,--bird, beast, or

fish, Bill?"

"The trail runs this way," answered Bill. "I chopped a whole winter

four year ago for a man who never paid me a cent for my work at the

end of it. Last week I concluded to go and collect the bill myself,

but not a thing could I get out of the knave but what's in the box. So

I told him I'd take them and call the account settled, for I had read

the writing on the bark you had nailed up on Indian Carry, and I said:

'They will help out at the dinner.'" And Bill proceeded to start one

of the boards with his hatchet.

The Trapper, whose curiosity was now thoroughly excited, applied his

eye to the opening, and as he did so there suddenly issued from the

box the most unearthly noises, accompanied by such scratchings and

clawings as could only have proceeded from animals of their nature

under such extraordinary treatment as they had experienced.

"Heavens and 'arth!" exclaimed the Trapper, "ye have pigs in that box,

Bill!"

"That's what I put in it," replied Bill, as he gave it another whack,

"and that's what will come out of it if I can start the clinchings of

these nails." And he bent himself with energy to his work.

"Hold up! Hold up, Bill!" cried the Trapper. "This isn't a bit of

business ye can do in a hurry ef ye expect to git any profit out of

the transaction. I can see only one of the pigs, but the one I can see

is not over-burdened with fat, and it's agin reason to expect that he

will be long in gittin' out when he starts, or wait for ye to scratch

him when he breaks cover."

"Don't you be afraid of them pigs getting away from me, old man,"

rejoined Bill, as he pried away at the nails. "I don't expect that the

one that starts will be as slow as a funeral when he makes his first

jump, but he won't be the only pig I've caught by the leg when he was

two feet above the earth."

"Go slow, I say, go slow!" cried the Trapper, now thoroughly alarmed

at the reckless precipitancy of his companion; "the pigs, as I can

see, belong to a lively breed, and it is sheer foolishness to risk a

whole winter's choppin'--"

Not another word of warning did the Old Trapper utter, for suddenly

the nails yielded, the board flew upward, and out of the box shot a

pig. It is in the interest of accurate statement and everlasting proof

of Wild Bill's alertness to affirm and record that the flying pig had

taken only two jumps before his owner was atop of him, and both

disappeared over the bank in a whirlwind of flying snow. Nor had the

Trapper been less dexterous, for no sooner had the sandy colored

streak shot through the hole made by the hatchet of the man who had

sledded him forty miles that he might present him to the Trapper as a

contribution to the Christmas dinner, than the old man dropped himself

on to the box, thereby effectually barring the exit of the other

porcine sprinter.

"Get your gun, get your gun, Old Trapper!" yelled Bill from the

whirlwind of snow. "Get your gun, I say, for this infernal pig is

getting the best of me."

"I can't do it, Bill," cried the Trapper; "I can't do it. I am doin'

picket duty on the top of this box, with a big hole under me and

another pig under the hole."

At the same instant the pig and Wild Bill shot up the bank into full

view. Bill had lost his grip on the leg, but had made good his hold on

an ear, and had the Trapper been a betting man, it is doubtful if he

would have placed money on either. Had he done so, the odds would have

been slightly in favor of the pig.

"Hold on to him, Bill!" cried the Trapper, laughing at the spectacle

in front of him till the tears stood in his eyes. "Hold on to him, I

say. Remember, ye have three months of choppin' in yer grip; the pig

under me is gittin' lively, and the profits of the other three months

be onsartin. O Lord!" ejaculated the old man, partially sobered at the

prospect, "here comes the pups and the devil himself will now be to

pay!"

The anxiety and alarming prediction of the Trapper were in the next

instant fully justified, for the two dogs, unaccustomed to the scent

and cries of the animals, but thoroughly aroused at the noise and fury

of the contest, came tearing down the slope through the snow at full

speed. The pig saw them coming and headed for the southern angle of

the cabin, with Bill streaming along at his side. In an instant he

reappeared at the northern corner, with Bill still fastened to his ear

and the hounds in full cry just one jump behind him. It is not an

accurate statement to say that Wild Bill was running beside the pig,

for his stride was so elongated that when one of his feet left the

ground it was impossible to predict when or where it would strike the

earth, or whether it would ever strike again. The two flying objects,

as they came careering down the slope directly toward the Trapper, who

was heroically holding himself above the aperture in the box with the

porcine volcano in full play under him, presented the dreadful

appearance of Biela's comet when, rent by some awful explosion, the

one half was on the point of taking its eternal farewell of the other.

"Lift the muzzle of yer piece, Wild Bill!" yelled the Trapper. "Lift

the muzzle, I say, and allow three feet for windage, or ye'll make me

the bull's-eye for yer pig!"

The advice, or rather, let us say, the expostulation of the Trapper,

was the best which, under the circumstances, could be given, but no

directions, however correct, might prevent the dreadful catastrophe.

The old man stuck heroically to his post, and the pig stuck with equal

pertinacity to his course. He struck the box on which the Trapper sat

with the force of a stone from a catapult, and dogs, men, and pigs

disappeared in the snow.

When the Trapper had wiped the snow from his eyes, the spectacle that

he beheld was, to say the least, extraordinary. The head of one dog

was in sight above the snow, and nigh the head he could make out the

hind legs and tail of another. In an instant Wild Bill's cap came in

sight, and from under it a series of sounds was coming as if he were

talking earnestly to himself, while far down the trail leading to the

river he caught the glimpse of two sandy-colored objects going at a

speed to which matter can only attain when it has become permanently

detached from this earth and superior to the laws of gravitation.

For several minutes not a word was said. The catastrophe had been so

overwhelming and the wreck of Bill's hopes so complete that it made

speech on his part impossible. The Trapper, from a fine sense of

feeling and regard for his companion, remained silent, and the dogs,

uncertain as to what was expected of them, kept their places in the

snow. At last the old man struggled to his feet and silently started

toward the cabin. Wild Bill followed in equal silence, and the dogs as

mutely brought up the rear. The depressed, not to say woe-begone,

appearance of the singular procession certainly had in it, in the

fullest measure, all the elements of humor. In this suggestive manner

the column filed into the cabin. The dogs stole softly to their

accustomed places, Wild Bill dropped into a chair, and the Trapper

addressed himself mechanically to some domestic concerns. At last the

silence became oppressive. Wild Bill turned in his chair, and, facing

the Trapper, said:--

"It's too devilish bad!"

"Ef ye was in council, ginerals or privits, ye'd carry every vote with

ye on that statement, Bill," said the Trapper with deliberation.

"Do you think there is any chance, old man?" queried Bill, earnestly.

"Not on the 'arth, Bill," answered the Trapper. "Ye see," he

continued, "the snow wasn't so deep on my side the trail and I had my

eye on them pigs afore ye got yer head above the drift, and I noted

the rate of their movin'. They was goin' mighty fast, Bill, mighty

fast. Ye must take into account that they had the slope in their favor

and sartin experiences behind. I've sighted on a good many things that

was gifted in runnin' and flyin', and I never kept a bullit in the

barrel when I wanted feather, fur, or meat, because of the swiftness

of the motion, but ef I had ben standin' ten rods from that trail and

loved the meat like a settler, I wouldn't have wasted powder or lead

on them pigs, Bill." And the two men, looking into each other's faces,

laughed like boys.

"Where do you think they'll fetch up, John Norton?" queried Bill, at

last.

"They won't fetch up," replied the Trapper, wiping his eyes,

"leastwise not this year. Henry has told me that it is twenty-four

thousand miles around the 'arth, and it looked to me as ef them pigs

had started out to sarcumnavigate it, and I conceit it'll be about a

month afore they will come through this clearin' agin. I may be a

little amiss in my calkerlatin', but a day more or less won't make any

difference with you and me, nor with the pigs, either, Bill. They may

be a trifle leaner when they pass the cabin next time, but their gait

will be jest the same, as I conceit." And after a moment, he asked,

sympathetically:--

"How far did ye sled them pigs, Bill?"

"Forty mile," answered Bill, dejectedly.

"It's a goodly distance, considerin' the natur' of the animils,"

replied the Trapper, "and ye must have been tempted to onload the sled

more'n once, Bill."

"I would have unloaded it," responded the other, "I would have

unloaded the cussed things more than once, but I had nothing else to

bring you, and I thought they'd look mighty fine standing up on the

table with an apple in each mouth and their tails curled up, as I've

seen them at the barbecues."

"So they would, so they would, Bill; but ye never could have kept 'em

on the table. No amount of cookin' would have ever taken the speed out

of them pigs. Ef ye had nailed 'em to the table they'd have taken the

table and cabin with 'em. It's better as it is, Bill; so cheer up and

we'll git at the cookin'."

* * * * *

Cooking is more than an art; it is a gift. Genius, and genius alone,

can prepare a feast fit for the feaster. Woe be to the wretch who sees

nothing in preparing food for the mouth of man save manual labor. Such

a knave should be basted on his own spit. An artist in eating can

alone appreciate an artist in cooking. When food is well prepared it

delights the eye, it intoxicates the nose, it pleases the tongue, it

stimulates the appetite, and prolongs the healthy craving which it

finally satisfies, even as the song of the mother charms the child

which it gradually composes for slumber.

The Old Trapper was a man of gifts and among his gifts was that of

cooking. For sixty years he had been his own _chef_, with a continent

for his larder, and to more than one gourmand of the great cities the

tastiness and delicacy of his dishes had been a revelation--more than

one epicure of the clubs had gone from his cabin not only with a full

but a surprised stomach.

It is easy to imagine the happiness that this host of the woods

experienced in preparing the feast for the morrow. He entered upon his

labors, whose culmination was to be the great event of the year, with

the alacrity of one who had mentally discussed and decided every point

in anticipation. There was no cause for haste, and hence there was no

confusion. He could not foretell the number of his guests, but this

did in no way disconcert him. He had already decided that no matter

how many might come there should be enough. In Wild Bill he had an

able and willing assistant, and all through the afternoon and well

into the evening the two men pushed on the preparation for the great

dinner.

The large table, constructed of strong maple plank, was sanded and

scoured until it shone almost snowy white. On it was placed a buck,

roasted a la barbecue, the skin and head skillfully reconnected with

the body and posed, muzzle lifted, antlers laid well back, head

turned, ears alert, as he stood in the bush when the Trapper's bullet

cut him down. At one end of the table a bear's cub was in the act of

climbing a small tree, while at the other end a wild goose hung in

mid-air, suspended by a fine wire from the ceiling, with neck

extended, wings spread, legs streaming backward, as he looked when he

drove downward toward open water to his last feeding.

The great cabin was a bower of beauty and fragrance. The pungent odor

of gummy boughs and of bark, under which still lurked the

amber-colored sweat of heated days and sweltering nights, pervaded it.

On one side of the cabin hung a huge piece of white cotton cloth, on

which the Trapper, with a vast outlay of patience, had stitched small

cones of the pine into the conventional phrase,

"A MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YE ALL."

"It must have taken you a good many evenings to have done that job,"

said Wild Bill, pointing with the ladle he held in his hand toward the

illuminated bit of sheeting.

"It did, Bill, it did," replied the Trapper, "and a solemn and a

lively time I had of it, for I hadn't but six big needles in the cabin

and I broke five on 'em the fust night, for the cones was gummy and

hard, and it takes a good, stiff needle to go through one ef the man

who is punchin' it through hasn't any thimble and the ball of his

thumb is bleedin'. Lord-a-massy, Bill, Rover knew the trouble I was

havin' as well as I did, for arter I had broken the second needle and

talked about it a moment, the old dog got oneasy and began to edge

away, and by the time I had broken the fourth needle and got through

washin' my thumb he had backed clean across the cabin and sat jammed

up in the corner out there flatter than a shingle."

"And what did he do when the fifth needle broke?" queried Bill, as he

thrust his ladle into the pot.

"Heavens and 'arth, Bill, why do ye ax sech foolish questions? Ye know

it wasn't a minit arter that fifth needle broke, leavin' the bigger

half stickin' under the nail of my forefinger, afore both of the pups

was goin' out through the door there as ef the devil was arter 'em

with a fryin' pan, and a chair a leetle behind him. But a man can't

stand everything, ef he be a Christian man and workin' away to git a

Christmas sign ready; can he, Bill?"

It is in harmony with the facts of the case for me to record that Wild

Bill never answered the Old Trapper's very proper interrogation, but

sat down on the floor and thrust his legs up in the air and yelled,

and after the spasm left him he got up slowly, sat down in a chair,

and looked at the Trapper with wet eyes and mouth wide open.

The Old Trapper evidently relished the mirthfulness of his companion,

for his face was lighted with the amused expression of the humorist

when he has told to an appreciative comrade an experience against

himself. But in an instant his countenance dropped, and, looking at

the huge kettle that stood half buried in the coals and warm ashes in

front of the glowing logs and into which Bill had been so determinedly

thrusting his ladle only a moment before, he exclaimed:--

"Bill, I have lost all confidence in yer cookin' abilities. Ye said

that ye knew the natur' of corn meal and that ye could fill a puddin'

bag jediciously, and though it isn't ten minits sence ye tied the

string and the meal isn't half swollen yit, yer whole bag there is on

the p'int of comin' out of the pot."

At this alarming announcement Wild Bill jumped for the fireplace and

in an instant he had placed the spade-shaped end of his ladle, whose

handle was full three feet long, at the very center of the lid that

was already lifted two inches from the rim of the kettle, and was

putting a good deal of pressure upon it. Confident in his ability to

resist any further upward tendency, and to escape the threatened

catastrophe, he coolly replied:--

"It strikes me that you are a good deal excited over a little matter,

old man. The meal has got through swelling--"

"No, it hasn't, no, it hasn't," returned the Trapper. "Half the

karnels haven't felt the warmin' of the hot water yit, and I can see

that the old lid is liftin'."

"No, it isn't lifting, either, John Norton," returned Wild Bill

determinedly; "and it won't lift unless the shaft of this ladle

snaps."

"The ladle be a good un," returned the Trapper, now fully assured that

no human power could avert the coming catastrophe, and keenly enjoying

his companion's extremity and the humor of the situation. "The ladle

be a good un, for I fashioned it from an old paddle of second growth

ash, whose blade I had twisted in the rapids, and ye can put yer whole

weight on it."

"Old man," cried Bill, now thoroughly alarmed, "the lid is lifting."

"Sartinly, sartinly," returned the Trapper. "It's lifted fully half an

inch sence ye placed yer ladle to it, and it'll keep on liftin'. Rover

knows what is comin' as well as I do, for the old dog, as ye see,

begins to edge away, and Sport has started for the door already."

"What shall I do, John Norton? What shall I do? The lid is lifting

again."

"Is yer ladle well placed, Bill? Have ye got it in the center of the

lid?" returned the Trapper.

"Dead in the center, old man," responded Bill, confidently, "dead in

the center."

"Put yer whole weight on it, then, and don't waste yer strength in

talkin'. Ye know yer own strength, and I know the strength of Indian

meal when hot water gits at it, and ef the ladle don't slip or the

kettle-lid split it's about nip and tuck atween ye."

"Old man," yelled Bill, as he put his whole weight on the ladle

handle, "this lid has lifted again. Get a stick and come here and help

me."

"No, no, Bill," answered the Trapper, "the puddin' is of yer own

mixin' and ye must attend to the job yerself. I stuck to yer box with

a hole underneath me and a pig under the hole till somethin' happened

and ye must stick to yer puddin'."

"But I can't hold it down, John Norton," yelled poor Bill. "The lid

has lifted again and the whole darned thing is coming out of the

pot."

"I conceit as much, I conceit as much," answered the Trapper. "There

go the pups out of the door, Bill, and when the dogs quit the cabin

it's time for the master to foller." And the old man started for the

door.

* * * * *

The catastrophe! Who could describe it? Bill's strength was adequate,

but no human power could save the pudding. Even as Bill put his

strength on to the ladle, the wooden cover of the kettle split with a

sharp concussion in the middle, the kettle was upset, and poor Bill,

covered with ashes and pursued by a cloud of steam, shot out of the

door and plunged into the snow.

Oh, laughter, sweet laughter, laugh on and laugh ever! In the smile of

the babe thou comest from heaven. In the girl's rosy dimples, in the

boy's noisy glee, in the humor of strong men, and the wit of sweet

women, thou art seen as a joy and a comfort to us humans. When fortune

deserts and friends fall away, he who keeps thee keeps solace and

health, hope and heart, in his bosom. When the head groweth white and

the eye getteth dim, and the soul goeth out through the slow closing

gates of the senses, be thou then in us and of us, thou sweet angel of

heaven, that the smile of the babe in its first happy sleep may

come back to our faces as we lie at the gates in our last

and--perhaps--most peaceful slumber!

The laughter and the labor of the day were ended. The work of

preparation for the dinner on the morrow had extended well into the

evening, and at its conclusion the two men, satisfied with the result

of the pleasant task and healthily weary, retired to their cots. It

is needless to say that the thoughts of each were happy and their

feelings peaceful, and to such slumber comes quickly. Outside the

world was white and still, with the stillness that precedes the coming

of a winter storm. Through the voiceless darkness a few feathery

prophecies of coming snow were settling lazily downward. The great

stones in the fireplace were still white with heat, and the cabin was

filled with the warm afterglow of burned logs and massive brands that

ever and anon broke apart and flamed anew.

Suddenly the Trapper lifted himself on his couch, and, looking over

toward his companion, said:--

"Bill, didn't ye hear the bells ring?"

Wild Bill lifted himself to his elbow, and in sheer astonishment

stared at the Trapper, for he well knew there wasn't a bell within

fifty miles. The old man noticed the astonishment of his companion

and, realizing the incredibility of the supposition, said as if in

explanation of the strangeness of his questioning:--

"This be the night on which memory takes the home trail, Bill, and the

thoughts of the aged go backward." And, laying his head again on the

pillow, he murmured: "I sartinly conceited I heerd the bells ringin'."

And then he slept.

Aye, aye, Old Trapper; we of whitening heads know the truth of thy

saying and thy dreaming. Thou didst hear the bells ring. For often as

we sleep on Christmas eve the ringing of bells comes to us. Marriage

peal and funeral knell, chimes and tolling, clash of summons and

measured stroke, dying noises from a dead past swelling and

sinking, sinking and swelling, like falling and failing surf on a

wreck-strewn beach. Ah, me! where be the ships, the proud,

white-sailed ships, the rich-laden ships, whose broken timbers and

splintered spars lie now dank, weed-grown, sand-covered, on that

sorrowful shore, on that mournfully resounding shore of our past?

[Illustration: "Where be the ships?"]

But other bells, thank God, sound for us all, Old Trapper, on

Christmas eve,--not the bells of the past, but the bells of the

future. And they ring loud and clear, and they will ring forever, for

they are swung by the angels of God. And they tell of a new life, a

new chance, and a new opportunity for us all.

* * * * *

Morning dawned. The day verified the Trapper's prophecy, for it came

with storm. The mountain back of the cabin roared as if aerial surf

was breaking against it. The air was thick with snow that streamed,

whirled, and eddied through it dry and light as feathers of down.

"Never mind the storm, Bill," said the Trapper cheerily, as he pushed

the door open in the gray dawn and looked out into the maze of

whirling, rushing snowflakes. "A few may be hindered, and one or two

fetch through a leetle late, but there'll be an 'arnest movement of

teeth when the hour for eatin' comes and the plates be well filled."

Dinner was called prompt to the hour, and again was the old man's

prediction realized. The table lacked not guests, for nearly every

chair was occupied. Twenty men had breasted the storm that they might

be at that dinner, and some had traversed a thirty mile trail that

they might honor the old man and share his generous cheer. It was a

remarkable and, perhaps we may say, a motley company that the Trapper

looked upon as he took his place, knife and fork in hand, at the head

of the table, with a hound on either side of his great chair, to

perform the duty of host and chief carver.

"Friends," said the Trapper, standing erect in his place and looking

cheerfully at the row of bearded and expectant faces on either hand in

front of him, "friends, I axed ye to come and eat this Christmas

dinner with me because I love the companionship of the woods and

hated, on this day of human feastin' and gladness, to eat my food

alone. I also conceited that some of ye felt as I did, and that the

day would be happier ef we spent it together. I knew, furdermore, that

some of ye were not born in the woods, but were newcomers, driven here

as a canoe to a beach in a gale, and that the day might be long and

lonesome to ye ef ye had to stay in yer cabins from mornin' till night

alone by yerselves. And I also conceited that here and there might be

a man who had been onfortunit in his trappin' or his venturs in the

settlements, and might act'ally be in need of food and garments, or it

may be he had acted wickedly at times, and had lost confidence in his

own goodness and the goodness of others, and I said I will make the

tarms of the invitin' broad enough to include each and all, whoever

and whatever he may be.

"And now, friends," continued the old man, "I be glad to see ye at my

table, and I hope ye have brought a good appetite with ye, for the

vic'tals be plenty and no one need scrimp the size of his eatin'. Let

us all eat heartily and be merry, for this be Christmas. Ef we've had

bad luck in the past we'll hope for better luck in the futur' and take

heart. Ef we've been heavy-hearted or sorrowful we will chirk up. Ef

any have wronged us we will forgive and forgit. For this be Christmas,

friends, and Christmas be a day for forgivin' and forgittin.' And now,

then," continued the old man, as he flourished his knife and grasped

the huge fork preparatory to plunging it into the venison haunch in

front of him, "with good appetites and a cheerful mind let us all fall

to eatin'."