THE MAKING OF A CHRISTMAS-TREE
Despite the snow that fell that night, despite the near approach of
Christmas, old Jim's discovery aroused a great excitement in the camp.
That very evening the news was known throughout all Borealis, and all
next day, in the driving storm, the hill was visited, the ledge was
viewed, and the topic was discussed at length in all its amazing
features.
Teamsters, miners, loiterers--all, even including the gambler--came to
pay their homage at the hiding-place of one of Mammon's family. All
the mountain-side was taken up in claims. The calmest man in all the
hills was Jim himself.
Parky made him an offer without the slightest hesitation.
"I'll square off your bill at the store," he said, "and give you a
hundred dollars' worth of grub for the claim and prospect just as she
stands."
"Not to-day," old Jim replied. "I never do no swapping at the other's
feller's terms when I'm busy. We've got to get ready for Christmas,
and you don't look to me like Santy Claus hunting 'round for lovely
things to do."
"Anyway, I'll send up a lot of grub," declared the gambler, with a
wonderful softening of the heart. "I was foolin'--just havin' a
joke--the last time you was down to the store. You know you can have
the best we've got in the deck."
"Wal, I 'ain't washed the taste of your joke clean out of my mouth just
yet, so I won't bother you to-day," drawled Jim; and with muttered
curses the gambler left, determined to have that ledge of gold-bearing
rock, let the cost be what it might.
"I guess we'll have to quit on that there Christmas-tree," said the
blacksmith, who was present with others at the cabin. "Seems you
didn't have time to go to the Pinyon hills and fetch one back."
"If only I hadn't puttered 'round with the work on the claim," said
Jim, "we might have had that tree as well as not. But I'll tell you
what we can do. We can cut down the alders and willows at the spring,
and bind a lot together and tie on some branches of mountain-tea and
make a tree. That is, you fellers can, for little Skeezucks ain't
a-feelin' right well to-day, and I reckon I'll stay close beside him
till he spruces up."
"What about your mine?" inquired Lufkins.
"It ain't agoin' to run away," said the old philosopher, calmly. "I'll
let it set there for a few more days, as long as I can't hang it up on
the tree. It's just my little present to the boy, anyhow."
If anything had been needed to inject new enthusiasm into the plans for
a Christmas celebration or to fire anew the boyhood in the men, the
find of gold at Jim's very door would have done the trick a dozen times
over.
With hearts new-created for the simple joys of their labor, the big
rough fellows cut the meagre growth of leafless trees at the spring in
the small ravine, and gathered evergreen mountain-tea that grew in
scrawny clusters here and there on the mountains.
Armful after armful of this, their only possible material, they carried
to the blacksmith's shop below, and there wrought long and hard and
earnestly, tying together the wisps of green and the boughs and trunks
of tender saplings.
Four of the stalks, the size of a lady's wrist, they fastened together
with twisted wire to form the main support, or body, of their tree, To
this the reconstructed, enlarged, and strengthened branches were
likewise wired. Lastly, the long, green spikes of the mountain shrub
were tied on, in bunches, like so many worn-out brooms. The tree, when
completed and standing in its glory in the shop, was a marvellous
creation, fully as much like a fir from the forest as a hair-brush is
like a palm.
Then began the scheme of its decoration. One of the geniuses broke up
countless bottles, for the red and green glass they afforded, and,
tying the pieces in slings of cord, hung them in great profusion from
the tree's peculiar arms. From the ceiling of his place of business,
Bone, the barkeep, cut down a fluffy lot of colored paper, stuck there
in a great rosette, and with this he added much original beauty to the
pile. Out of cigar-boxes came a great heap of bright tin-foil that
went on the branches in a way that only men could invent.
The carpenter loaded the structure with his gaudy blocks. The man who
had promised to make a "kind of kaliderscope" made four or five instead
of one. They were white-glass bottles filled with painted pebbles,
buttons, dimes, chopped-up pencils, scraps of shiny tin, and anything
or everything that would lend confusion or color to the bottle's
interior as the thing was rolled about or shaken in the hands. These
were so heavy as to threaten the tree's stability. Therefore, they had
to be placed about its base on the floor.
The blacksmith had made a lot of little axes, shovels, picks, and
hammers, all of which had been filed and polished with the greatest
care and affectionate regard for the tiny man whose tree and Christmas
all desired to make the finest in the world.
The teamster had evolved, from the inside lining of his winter coat, a
hybrid duck-dog-bear that he called a "woolly sheep."
One of the men had whittled out no less than four fat tops, all ringed
with colors and truly beautiful to see, that he said were the best he
had ever beheld, despite the fact that something was in them that
seemed to prevent them from spinning.
Another old fellow brought a pair of rusty skates which were large
enough for a six-foot man. He told of the wonderful feats he had once
performed on the ice as he hung them on the tree for little Skeezucks.
The envy of all was awakened, however, by Field, the father of the
camp, who fetched a drum that would actually make a noise. He had
built this wonder out of genuine sheep-skin, stretched over both of the
ends of a bright tin can of exceptional size, from which he had eaten
the contents solely with the purpose in view of procuring the metal
cylinder.
There were wooden animals, cut-out guns, swords and daggers,
wagons--some of them made with spools for wheels--a sled on which the
paint was still wet, and dolls suspiciously suggestive of
potato-mashers and iron spoons, notwithstanding their clothing. There
were balls of every size and color, coins of gold and silver, and books
made up of pasted pictures, culled for the greater part from cans of
peaches, oysters, tomatoes, lobsters, and salmon.
Nearly every man had fashioned something, and hardly anything had been
left unpainted. The clumsy old "boys" of the town had labored with
untold patience to perfect their gifts. Their earnestness over the
child and the day was a beautiful thing to see. Never were presents
more impressive as to weight. The men had made them splendidly strong.
The gifts had been ticketed variously, many being marked "For Little
Skeezucks," but by far the greatest number bore the inscription: "For
Bruvver Jim's Baby--Merry Christmas."
The tree, by the time the things had been lashed upon its branches,
needed propping and guying in every direction. The placing of big,
white candles upon it, however, strained the skill and self-control of
the men to the last degree. If a candle prefers one set of antics to
another, that set is certainly embodied in the versatile schemes for
lopping over, which the wretched thing will develop on the
best-behaving tree in the world. On a home-made tree the opportunities
for a candle's enjoyment of this, its most diverting of
accomplishments, are increased remarkably. The day was cold, but the
men perspired from every pore, and even then the night came on before
the work was completed.
When at length they ceased their labors for the day, there was still
before them the appalling task of preparing the Christmas banquet.
In the general worry incident to all such preparations throughout the
world, Parky, the gambler, fired an unexpected shot. He announced his
intention of giving the camp a grand celebration of his own. The
"Palace" saloon would be thrown wide open for the holiday, and food,
drink, music, and dancing would be the order of the memorable occasion.
"It's a game to knock our tree and banquet into a cocked hat," said the
blacksmith, grimly. "Well--he may get some to come, but none of old
Jim's friends or the fellers which likes little Skeezucks is goin' to
desert our own little festival."
Nevertheless, the glitter of the home-made tree in the dingy shop was
dimmed.