pack, and Wild Bill with his sled heavily loaded, were descending the
western slope of the mountain, not a mile from the clearing in which
stood the lonely cabin. The sound of the piece brought them to a halt
as quickly as if the bullet had cut through the air in front of their
faces. For several minutes both stood in the attitude of listening.
"Down into the snow with ye, pups!" exclaimed the Trapper, in a hoarse
whisper. "Down into the snow with ye, I say! Rover, ef ye lift yer
muzzle agin, I'll warm yer back with the ramrod. By the Lord, Bill,
the buck is comin' this way; ye can see his horns lift above the leetle
balsams as he breaks through the thicket yender. Ef he strikes the
runway, he'll sartinly come within range;" and the old Trapper slipped
his arms from the pack, and, lowering it to the earth, sank on his
knees beside it, where he waited as motionless as if the breath had
departed his body.
Onward came the game. As the Trapper had suggested, the buck, with
mighty and far-reaching bounds, cleared the shrubby obstructions, and,
entering the runway, tore up the familiar path with the violence of a
tornado. Onward he came, his head flung upward, his antlers laid well
back, tongue lolling from his mouth, and his nostrils smoking with the
hot breaths that burst in streaming columns from them. Not until his
swift career had brought him exactly in front of his position did the
old man stir a muscle. But then, quick as the motion of the leaping
game, his rifle jumped to his cheek, and even as the buck was at the
central point of his leap, and suspended in the air, the piece cracked
sharp and clear, and the deer, stricken to his death, fell with a crash
to the ground. The quivering hounds rose to their feet, and bayed long
and deep; Wild Bill swung his hat and yelled; and for a moment the
woods rang with the wild cries of dogs and man.
[Illustration: The piece cracked sharp and clear]
"Lord-a-massy, Bill, what a mouth ye have when ye open it!" exclaimed
the Trapper, as he leisurely poured the powder into the still smoking
barrel. "Atween ye and the pups, it's enough to drive a man crazy. I
should sartinly think ye had never seed a deer shot afore, by the way
ye be actin'."
"I've seen a good many, as you know, John Norton; but I never saw one
tumbled over by a single bullet when at the very top of his jump, as
that one was. I surely thought you had waited too long, and I wouldn't
have given a cent for your chances when you pulled. It was a wonderful
shot, John Norton, and I would take just such another tramp as I have
had, to see you do it again, old man."
"It wasn't bad," returned the Trapper; "no, it sartinly wasn't bad, fur
he was goin' as ef the Old Harry was arter him. I shouldn't wonder ef
he had felt the tech of lead down there in the holler, and the smart of
his hurt kept him flyin'. Let's go and look him over, and see ef we
can't find the markin's of the bullit on him."
In a moment the two stood above the dead deer.
"It is as I thought," said the Trapper, as he pointed with his ramrod
to a stain of blood on one of the hams of the buck. "The bullit drove
through his thigh here, but it didn't tech the bone, and was a sheer
waste of lead, fur it only sot him goin' like an arrer. Bill, I
sartinly doubt," continued the old man, as he measured the noble animal
with his eye, "I sartinly doubt ef I ever seed a bigger deer. There's
seven prongs on his horns, and I'd bet a horn of powder agin a
chargerful that he'd weigh three hundred pounds as he lies. Lord, what
a Christmas gift he'll be fur the woman! The skin will make a blanket
fit fur a queen to sleep under, and the meat, jediciously cared for,
will last her all winter. We must manage to git it to the edge of the
clearin', anyhow, or the wolves might make free with our venison, Bill.
Yer sled is a strong un, and it'll bear the loadin', ef ye go keerful."
The Trapper and his companion set themselves to their task with the
energy of men accustomed to surmount every obstacle, and in a short
half-hour the sled, with its double loading, stopped at the door of the
lonely cabin.
"I don't understand this, Wild Bill," said the Trapper. "Here be a
woman's tracks in the snow, and the door be left a leetle ajar, but
there be no smoke in the chimney, and they sartinly ain't very noisy
inside. I'll jest give a knock or two, and see ef they be stirrin';"
and, suiting the action to the word, he knocked long and loud on the
large door. But to his noisy summons there came no response, and
without a moment of farther hesitation he shoved open the door, and
entered. "God of marcy! Wild Bill," exclaimed the Trapper, "look in
here!"
A huge room dimly lighted, holes in the roof, here and there a heap of
snow on the floor, an immense fireplace with no fire in it, and a group
of scared, wild-looking children huddled together in the farther
corner, like young and timid animals that had fled in affright from the
nest where they had slept, at some fearful intrusion. That is what the
Trapper saw.
"I"--Whatever Wild Bill was about to say, his astonishment, and we may
add his pity, were too profound for him to complete his ejaculation.
"Don't ye be afeerd, leetle uns," said the Trapper, as he advanced into
the centre of the room to more fully survey the wretched place. "This
be Christmas morn, and me and Wild Bill and the pups have come over the
mountain to wish ye all a merry Christmas. But where be yer mother?"
queried the old man, as he looked kindly at the startled group. "We
don't know where she is," answered the older of the two girls; "we
thought she was in bed with us, till you woke us. We don't know where
she has gone."
"I have it, I have it, Wild Bill!" exclaimed the Trapper, whose eyes
had been busy scanning the place while talking with the children. "The
rifle be gone from the hangings, and the tracks in the snow be hern.
Yis, yis, I see it all. She went out in hope of gittin' the leetle uns
here somethin' to eat, and that was her rifle we heerd, and her bullet
made that hole in the ham of the buck. What a disappointment to the
poor creetur when she seed she hadn't hit him! Her heart eena'most
broke, I dare say. But the Lord was in it--leastwise, he didn't go
ag'in the proper shapin' of things arterwards. Come, Bill, let's stir
round lively, and get the shanty in shape a leetle, and some vict'als
on the table afore she comes. Yis, git out yer axe, and slash into
that dead beech at the corner of the cabin, while I sorter clean up
inside. A fire is the fust thing on sech a mornin' as this; so scurry
round, Bill, and bring in the wood as ef ye was a good deal in 'arnest,
and do ye cut to the measure of the fireplace, and don't waste yer time
in shortenin' it, fur the longer the fireplace, the longer the wood;
that is, ef ye want to make it a heater."
His companion obeyed with alacrity; and by the time the Trapper had
cleaned out the snow, and swept down the soot from the sides of the
fireplace, and put things partially to rights, Bill had stacked the dry
logs into the huge opening, nearly to the upper jamb, and, with the
help of some large sheets of birch-bark, kindled them to a flame.
"Come here, leetle uns," said the Trapper, as he turned his
good-natured face toward the children,--"come here, and put yer leetle
feet on the h'arthstun, fur it's warmin', and I conceit yer toes be
about freezin'."
It was not in the power of children to withstand the attraction of such
an invitation, extended with such a hearty voice and such benevolence
of feature. The children came promptly forward, and stood in a row on
the great stone, and warmed their little shivering bodies by the
abundant flames.
"Now, leetle folks," said the Trapper, "jest git yerselves well warmed,
then git on what clothes ye've got, and we'll have some
breakfast,--yis, we'll have breakfast ready by the time yer mother gits
back, fur I know where she be gone, and she'll be hungry and cold when
she gits in. I don't conceit that this little chap here can help much,
but ye girls be big enough to help a good deal. So, when ye be warm,
do ye put away the bed to the furderest corner, and shove out the table
in front of the fire, and put on the dishes, sech as ye have, and be
smart about it, too, fur yer mother will sartinly be comin' soon, and
we must be ahead of her with the cookin'."
What a change the next half-hour made in the appearance of the cabin!
The huge fire sent its heat to the farthest corner of the great room.
The miserable bed had been removed out of sight, and the table, drawn
up in front of the fire, was set with the needed dishes. On the
hearthstone a large platter of venison steak, broiled by the Trapper's
skill, simmered in the heat. A mighty pile of cakes, brown to a turn,
flanked one side, while a stack of potatoes baked in the ashes
supported the other. The teapot sent forth its refreshing odor through
the room. The children, with their faces washed and hair partially, at
least, combed, ran about with bare feet on the warm floor, comfortable
and happy. To them it was as a beautiful dream. The breakfast was
ready, and the visitors sat waiting for the coming of her to whose
assistance the angel of Christmas Eve had sent them.
"Sh!" whispered the Trapper, whose quick ear had caught the sound of a
dragging step in the snow. "She's comin'!"
Too weary and faint, too sick at heart and exhausted in body to observe
the unaccustomed signs of human presence around her dwelling, the poor
woman dragged herself to the door, and opened it. The gun she still
held in her hand fell rattling to the floor, and, with eyes wildly
opened, she gazed bewildered at the spectacle. The blazing fire, the
set table, the food on the hearthstone, the smiling children, the two
men! She passed her hands across her eyes as one waking from sleep.
Was she dreaming? Was this cabin the miserable hut she had left at
daybreak? Was that the same fireplace in front of whose cold and
cheerless recess she had crouched the night before? And were those two
strangers there men, or were they angels? Was what she saw real, or
was it only a fevered vision born of her weakness?
Her senses actually reeled to and fro, and she trembled for a moment on
the verge of unconsciousness. Indeed, the shock was so overwhelming
that in another instant she would have swooned and fallen to the floor
had not the growing faintness been checked by the sound of a human
voice.
"A merry Christmas to ye, my good woman," said the Trapper. "A merry
Christmas to ye and yourn!"
The woman started as the hearty tones fell on her ear, and, steadying
herself by the door, she said, speaking as one partially dazed,--
"Are you John Norton the Trapper, or are you an ang--"
"Ye needn't sight agin," interrupted the old man. "Yis, I'm old John
Norton himself, nothin' better and nothin' wuss; and the man in the
chair here by my side is Wild Bill, and ye couldn't make an angel out
of him, ef ye tried from now till next Christmas. Yis, my good woman,
I'm John Norton, and this is Wild Bill, and we've come over the
mountain to wish ye a merry Christmas, ye and yer leetle uns, and help
ye keep the day; and, ye see, we've been stirrin' a leetle in yer
absence, and breakfast be waitin'. Wild Bill and me will jest go out
and cut a leetle more wood, while ye warm and wash yerself; and when ye
be ready to eat, ye may call us, and we'll see which can git into the
house fust."
So saying, the Trapper, followed by his companion, passed out of the
door, while the poor woman, without a word, moved toward the fire, and,
casting one look at her children, at the table, at the food on the
hearthstone, dropped on her knees by a chair, and buried her face in
her hands.
"I say," said Wild Bill to the Trapper, as he crept softly away from
the door, to which he had returned to shut it more closely, "I say,
John Norton, the woman is on her knees by a chair."
"Very likely, very likely," returned the old man reverently; and then
he began to chop vigorously at a huge log, with his back toward his
comrade.
Perhaps some of you who read this tale will come some time, when weary
and heart-sick, to something drearier than an empty house, some bleak,
cold day, some lonely morn, and with a starving heart and benumbed
soul,--ay, and empty-handed, too,--enter in only to find it swept and
garnished, and what you most needed and longed for waiting for you.
Then will you, too, drop upon your knees, and cover your face with your
hands, ashamed that you had murmured against the hardness of your lot,
or forgotten the goodness of Him who suffered you to be tried only that
you might more fully appreciate the triumph.
"My good woman," said the Trapper, when the breakfast was eaten, "we've
come, as we said, to spend the day with you; and accordin' to
custom--and a pleasant un it be fur sartin--we've brought ye some
presents. A good many of them come from him who called on ye as he and
me passed through the lake last fall. I dare say ye remember him, and
he sartinly has remembered ye. Fur last evening when I was makin' up a
leetle pack to bring ye myself,--fur I conceited I had better come over
and spend the day with ye,--Wild Bill came to my door with a box on his
sled that the boy had sent in from his home in the city; and in the box
he had put a great many presents fur him and me; and in the lower half
of the box he had put a good many presents fur ye and yer leetle uns,
and we've brought them all over with us. Some of the things be fur
eatin' and some of them be fur wearin'; and that there may be no
misunderstanding I would say that all the things that be in the
pack-basket there, and all the things that be on the sled, too, belong
to ye. And as I see the woodpile isn't a very big un fur this time of
the year, Bill and me be goin' out to settle our breakfast a leetle
with the axes. And while we be gone, I conceit ye had better rummage
the things over, and them that be good fur eatin' ye had better put in
the cupboard, and them that be good fur wearin' ye had better put on
yerself and yer leetle uns; and then we'll all be ready to make a fair
start. Fur this be Christmas Day, and we be goin' to keep it as it
orter be kept. Ef we've had sorrers, we'll forgit 'em; and we'll
laugh, and eat, and be merry. Fur this be Christmas, my good woman!
children, this be Christmas! Wild Bill, my boy, this be Christmas; and
pups, this be Christmas! And we'll all laugh, and eat, and be merry."
The joyfulness of the old man was contagious. His happiness flowed
over as waters flow over the rim of a fountain. Wild Bill laughed as
he seized his axe, the woman rose from the table smiling, the girls
giggled, the little boy stamped, and the hounds, catching the spirit of
their merry master, swung their tails round, and bayed in canine
gladness; and amid the joyful uproar the old Trapper spun himself out
of the door, and chased Wild Bill through the snow like a boy.
The dinner was to be served at two o'clock; and what a dinner it was,
and what preparations preceded! The snow had been shovelled from
around the cabin, the holes in the roof roughly but effectually
thatched. A good pile of wood was stacked in front of the doorway.
The spring that bubbled from the bank had been cleared of ice, and a
protection constructed over it. The huge buck had been dressed, and
hung high above the reach of wolves. Cedar and balsam branches had
been placed in the corners and along the sides of the room. Great
sprays of the tasselled pine and the feathery tamarack were suspended
from the ceiling. The table had been enlarged, and extra seats
extemporized. The long-unused oven had been cleaned out, and under its
vast dome the red flames flashed and rolled upward. What a change a
few hours had brought to that lonely cabin and its wretched inmates!
The woman, dressed in her new garments, her hair smoothly combed, her
face lighted with smiles, looked positively comely. The girls, happy
in their fine clothes and marvellous toys, danced round the room, wild
with delight; while the little boy strutted about the floor in his new
boots, proudly showing them to each person for the hundredth time.
The hostess's attention was equally divided between the temperature of
the oven and the adornment of the table. A snow-white sheet, one of a
dozen she had found in the box, was drafted peremptorily into service,
and did duty as a tablecloth. Oh, the innocent and funny make-shifts
of poverty, and the goodly distance it can make a little go! Perhaps
some of us, as we stand in our rich dining-rooms, and gaze with pride
at the silver, the gold, the cut-glass, and the transparent china, can
recall a little kitchen in a homely house far away, where our good
mothers once set their tables for their guests, and what a brave show
the few extra dishes made when they brought them out on the rare
festive days!
However it might strike you, fair reader, to the poor woman and her
guests there was nothing incongruous in a sheet serving as a
tablecloth. Was it not white and clean and properly shaped, and would
it not have been a tablecloth if it hadn't been a sheet? How very nice
and particular some people can be over the trifling matter of a name!
And this sheet had no right to be a sheet; for any one with half an eye
could see at a glance that it was predestined from the first to be a
tablecloth, for it sat as smoothly on the wooden surface as pious looks
on a deacon's face, while the easy and nonchalant way it draped itself
at the corners was perfectly jaunty.
The edges of this square of white sheeting that had thus providentially
found its true and predestined use were ornamented with the leaves of
the wild myrtle, stitched on in the form of scallops. In the centre,
with a brave show of artistic skill, were the words, "Merry Christmas,"
prettily worked with the small brown cones of the pines. This, the
joint product of Wild Bill's industry and the woman's taste, commanded
the enthusiastic admiration of all; and even the little boy, from the
height of a chair into which he had climbed, was profoundly affected by
the show it made.
The Trapper had charge of the meat department, and it is safe to say
that no Delmonico could undertake to serve venison in greater variety
than did he. To him it was a grand occasion, and--in a culinary
sense--he rose grandly to meet it. What bosom is without its little
vanities? and shall we laugh at the dear old man because he looked upon
the opportunity before him with feeling other than pure
benevolence,--even of complacency that what he was doing was being done
as no one else could do it?
There was venison roasted, and venison broiled, and venison fried;
there was hashed venison, and venison spitted; there was a side-dish of
venison sausage, strong with the odor of sage, and slightly dashed with
wild thyme; and a huge kettle of soup, on whose rich creamy surface
pieces of bread and here and there a slice of potato floated.
"I tell ye, Bill," said the Trapper to his companion, as he stirred the
soup with a long ladle, "this pot isn't actilly runnin' over with
taters, but ye can see a bit occasionally ef ye look sharp and keep the
ladle goin' round pretty lively. No, the taters ain't over-plenty,"
continued the old man, peering into the pot, and sinking his voice to a
whisper, "but there wasn't but fifteen in the bag, and the woman took
twelve of 'em fur her kittle, and ye can't make three taters look
actilly crowded in two gallons of soup, can ye, Bill?" And the old man
punched that personage in the ribs with the thumb of the hand that was
free from service, while he kept the ladle going with the other.
"Lord!" exclaimed the Trapper, speaking to Bill, who, having taken a
look into the old man's kettle, was digging his knuckles into his eyes
to free them from the spray that was jetted into them from the
fountains of mirth within that were now in full play,--"Lord! ef there
isn't another piece of tater gone all to pieces! Bill, ef I make
another circle with this ladle, there won't be a whole slice left, and
ye'll swear there wasn't a tater in the soup." And the two men, with
their faces within twenty inches, laughed and laughed like boys.
How sweet it is to think that when the Maker set up this strange
instrument we call ourselves, and strung it for service, he selected of
the heavy chords so few, and of the lighter ones so many! Some muffled
ones there are; some slow and solemn sounds swell sadly forth at
intervals, but blessed be God that we are so easily tickled, and the
world is so funny that within it, even when exiled from home and
friends, we find, as the days come and go, the causes and occasions of
hilarity!
Wild Bill had been placed in charge of the liquids. What a satire
there is in circumstances, and how those of to-day laugh at those of
yesterday! Yes, Wild Bill had charge of the liquids,--no mean charge,
when the occasion is considered. Nor was the position without its
embarrassments, as few honorable positions are, for it brought him face
to face with the problem of the day--dishes; for, between the two cooks
of the occasion, every dish in the cabin had been brought into
requisition, and poor Bill was left in the predicament of having to
make tea and coffee with no pots to make them in.
But Bill was not lacking in wit, if he was in pots, and he solved the
conundrum how to make tea without a teapot in a manner that extorted
the woman's laughter, and commanded the old Trapper's admiration.
In ransacking the lofts above the apartment, he had lighted on several
large, stone jugs, which, with the courage--shall we call it the
audacity?--of genius, he had seized upon; and, having thoroughly rinsed
them, and freed them from certain odors,--which we are free to say Bill
was more or less familiar with,--he brought them forward as substitutes
for kettle and pot. Indeed, they worked admirably, for in them the
berry and the leaves might not only be properly steeped, but the flavor
could be retained beyond what it might in many of our famous and
high-sounding patented articles.
But Bill, while ingenious and courageous to the last degree, was
lacking in education, especially in scientific directions. He had
never been made acquainted with that great promoter of modern
civilization--the expansive properties of steam. The corks he had
whittled out for his bravely extemporized tea and coffee pots were of
the closest fit; and, as they had been inserted with the energy of a
man who, having conquered a serious difficulty, is determined to reap
the full benefit of his triumph, there was at least no danger that the
flavor of the concoctions would escape through any leakage at the
muzzle. Having thus prepared them for steeping, he placed the jugs in
his corner of the fireplace, and pushed them well up through the ashes
to the live coals.
"Wild Bill," said the Trapper, who wished to give his companion the
needed warning in as delicate and easy a manner as possible, "Wild
Bill, ye have sartinly got the right idee techin' the makin' of tea and
coffee, fur the yarb should be steeped, and the berry too,--leastwise,
arter it's biled up once or twice,--and therefore it be only reasonable
that the nozzles should be closed moderately tight; but a man wants
considerable experience in the business, or he's likely to overdo it
jest a leetle, and ef ye don't cut some slots in them wooden corks
ye've driven into them nozzles, Bill, there'll be a good deal of tea
and coffee floatin' round in your corner of the fireplace afore many
minutes, and I conceit there'll be a man about your size lookin' for a
couple of corks and pieces of jugs out there in the clearin', too."
"Do you think so?" answered Bill incredulously. "Don't you be scared,
old man, but keep on stirring your soup and turning the meat, and I'll
keep my eye on the bottles."