December 23, 1949 (12 pages)

USAT: ATOR ROE GROSS iy . there’s no other way. ' ther’s hand. ‘Freddie! Freddie! Get up quick, Daddy's going away today. If you want to see him off deer. Quick! on the stage.” : Mary shook the little boy lightly and becauses most of his young life he'd been used to getting up very early he scrambled from bed and into his clothes while still half asleep. It was still dark at 4 o’clock on this November morning but the farm was stirring. Old Nipper yawned and bark*, ed; roosters crowed; calves bawled and M * 66 ° E were answered by soft ‘moos’ from their mothers lying in their deep straw : beds; horses whinnied and far off on a distant knoll a coyote howled for the breakfast he'd failed to get. Soft thuds were coming from the turkey roosts —young gobblers were dropping to the ground and groping in the darkness, anxious to be starting for the range and their breakfasts of grasshoppers and mullein seed. The cold wind coming from the tarweed fields smelled bitter and someway lonely, and the little group waiting by the stage road shivered as they strained their ears for sounds of the Marysville and Browns Valley stage. And soon they heard it. Clanking, straining harness, blowing horses and a good round oath from the Irish driver as he guided the horses through the deep ruts of the corduroyed old road. The father spoke as he picked up his shabby grip, “Tonopah is a long way . It’s not good to be going so far just at the beginning of winter—but The Browns Valley mines are done and Farnum and O'Hara know it. It was fine of them to make a place for me over there. It « means we can finish the payments on the ranch, and, Mary, surely we can make it in two years. When . come back I'll not have to leave home again. it will be hard for all of you this winter—'’ He looked at the little boy in his shabby shrunken coat, “No Christmas this year—-but when I come home Mary, though her face looked tired and thin in the grey morning light, spoke firmly. “We'll be all. right. Fred is old for his years. I can trust him anywhere. He and . can manage anything here— But, Will, please take care of yourself—write often and don’t worry.” a The creaking old stage came to a grinding halt. The driver unbuttoned the side canvas and looked for luggage. “Good-bye, daddy.” The alert, handsome little boy hung tightly to his fa“TH, Pll—oh, Dad, I'll do everything . can—and Dad—when you come home I'll be waiting here by the road. .” But the thought of the long months ahead was too much. ‘He turned and. ran toward the house’ to hide the tears that washed over the big brown freckles and ran off his chin. Nipper, his dog, always close at his side, whined in.a misery of inadequacy and furiously licked his hand. Fred took a minute to hug the dear woolley head, then grabbed his gun and ran after the turkeys which were fast disappearing over the hill above the house. The wind now was blowing hard and cold from the north. It would be a bad . day. The young gobblers at this stage of their lives, quarrelsome and contemptuous of feminine society, separated from the hens and forming bands of raced crazily against the wind for miles. Nipper loved it. He'd look up at Fred grinning and waiting instructions —then legs outstretched, belly close to the ground, he'd work swiftly and efficiently rounding up the silly birds — keeping the bands close together—routing and scaring the wily coyotes waiting in weed patch and gully for an easy breakfast. During school days Mary worked against time. Doing chores, cooking breakfast; packing lunches — then almost running with the baby in her arms, she'd arrive at the feeding grounds, out of breath, but in time for Fred to reach school before nine. And so the days passed, each filled with work and worry and happiness— all the things that made up the everyday lives of families living in the isolated communities between Marysville and Browns Valley. And then came fattening time. Feeding troughs were kept full now and the turkeys stayed close to home, strutting, quarreling and gobbling till the country rang with their clamor. But Mary and Fred watched over them still with almost feverish anxiety for the. sale of them meant the little family’s security until the cream checks began coming in, in the spring. At a dollar and a half apiece, which was the current price at that time, the 90 turkeys would pay most of their debts and give them a margin to live on. Nothing must happen to the turkeys —and nothing would. It was nearly Christmas and a buyer had already bargained for them and would be there the following Thursday. The two smaller children talked of nothing but Santa Claus and Christmas and Mary, heavy of. heart, dug deep into her trunk for something that might take the place of the shiny new toys their child hearts craved. But it was a sorry heap she unearthed and she put them back with a sigh. And then everything was forgotten when the. baby, restless all one night, awoke with a burning fever. But farm work must go on. Mary bathed the hot little body—then leaving little Mary in charge, she hurried to the barn to help Fred with the turkeys. They had to be driven into the barn to be caught and sorted. And they refused to be driven. Sensing something unusual they resisted every effort to drive them into the barn and when Mary and Fred, aided by Nipper, did accomplish it they rushed frenziedly to the darkest corner and yelped at the top of their lungs. : “Turn the stock hens out, Fred. I’ve got to try again to feed the baby.” Mary ran back to the house. But the baby still burning with fever, pushed the spoon away and vomited weakly. Mary pressed her hands to her temples. ‘‘She’s so sick and . don’t know _what to do.”’ “Mother, Mother,’ Fred flung the door wide as he burst into the kitchen. “They're nearly all dead, . think. They have smothered each other.”’ When the shrieking terrified turkeys were driven from the corner forty lay dying, smothered and trampled to death. Mary leaned weakly. against a stall. Then she spoke to the little boy vainly endeavoring to bring some of them back to life. “Fred, quick! We can save them yet —help me bleed them. Do you remember? One time your father sold dressed turkeys in Grass Valley at Christmas— they were glad to get them. But, oh! the baby—I can’t leave her.”’ Little Fred’s face was all smiles. “‘If we can pick them today I can take them to Grass Valley tomorrow—and Mother, . can sell them, I know. Please, Mother, oh please, it’s what Dad would want me to do.” All day they picked—and half the night—Mary only stopping at intervals to tend the baby and twice she warmed food for the children who played Santa Claus and Christmas with their old dolls. When midnight came the icy store‘room was filled with boxes and tables piled high “with big yellow beauties— their heads wrapped neatly in squares cut from old Marysville Appeals. “Tl call you early, dear,’’ Mary tucked a hot flatiron to the tired little boy's feet, then returned to the kitchen and drawing her chair close to the old buggy that was the baby’s bed, watched anxiously through the night. At 4 o'clock Mary covered the sleeping baby warmly, picked-up the lantern and went out into the night. There was much to be done, but at last she was through. The turkeys were packed neatly in rows———papers and canvas sea Sas eck Shs casas al » Go Grasshopper FG Peaceful Night . .” under and over. them. Johnnie, Fred’s pony had been fed, watered and harnessed and was tied out front waiting the little driver. Mary bent reluctant steps toward the housé:to! rouse. the sleeping boy, but when she opened the door he was up, dressed and had replenished the fire. “Keep this in your inside pocket, Fred. [It will be plenty for your hotel bill and to put up your horse and wagon. Stay at the Holbrooke Hotel — maybe they will buy some of the turkeys. And Fred, don’t sell them for less than a.dollar and a half.” looked ‘at the little 11-year-old boy and her heart failed her. ‘‘Oh,. Fred, I’m afraid.’ %: * Fred slapped the lines on Johnnie's back.This must be the outskirts of Grass Valley. He counted the places he'd passed through. Wades, the Ten Mile House, Browns Valley, Sicard Flat, Smartville and Rough and Ready. His hands trembled with nervous worry as night began closing down and a bitter wind sprang up. Johnnie had been mean all day—jumping:and shying at nothing and once when he'd stopped to ask directions, he’d balked. But this was the worst of all. It was such a big town and he didn’t know a soul. And then something cold and wet struck his cheek—his hands—it was like rain but it wasn't. Why this must be snow! “Snow!"’ For a minute he was thrilled to the heart. He'd never seen snow and this was it. It was coming down steadily now—swirling a little with the wind and all at once night came too swiftly down from the hills, black and lonely. At almost the same. time that little Fred was fearfully guiding his horse toward the center of town, a young, fashionably dressed man turned thé corner of Main and Mill streets and hurried through the jostling, merry holiday crowd. People called to him right and ll Long Ago } and sweetness of his beautiful voice _held them. as nothing else could. ace: Mary — and a very merry Christmas.”’ Dr. Wilson was a remarkably handsome man at all times but tonight as he stood there, his black head bared to .the.falling snow, his pale face uplifted as he sang, he seemed more than man and the beautiful old carol went straight to the miners’ hearts.’ Grass Valley was gone and they were agairf with their loved ones in the dear homeland across the sea. ao “Doctor Wilson,” a hack door had opened and a woman's gloved hand beckoned, ‘“Two turkeys, please.” “Thank you, Mabel, God bless you, The woman’s face reddened as she pulled the‘door to. The restive horse splashed through whirling snow. , The crowd would hardly make way. cs for the clanging street cars that emptied . more shoppers into the street to look and listen and buy. “Here's yours, Mr. Loughridge, and thank you, Dr. Jones’’ and through it all Doctor Wilson sang. ‘Abide With Me—With Me” echoed through the fall snow-and the miners’ cheeks wet. ‘“‘Do you mind the cave-in Jack? It was all we had—that prayer. The poor devil that got it that night left two kids about like that one yonder.”’ As the hymn ended Doctor Wilson saw a woman drive her carriage close— then hesitate. He nodded to her as he thought, ““The stingiest, meanest woman in town,” but he looked straight 3 ahead as he sang, ‘“‘Because . Love You.’” While he sang her world was changed. No longer was she old, mean =} and hated. She was again in the magic . world of youth where love was all that left, but he touched his hat and hurried. past. “Who on earth .is' that?”” a young woman with all the air and elegance of Powell street on a Sunday afternoon, touched her companion’s arm. ““That—oh, that’s the 400’s society pet—Dr. Wilson.”’ “Well; he’s the best looking man I've ever seen—and there's plenty of men where . come from. How do you get to know him?” Her companion grinned, ““You don’t —that is, unless you belong to the high society here. I don't. But I do wish you could hear him sing. His looks are as nothing to his voice. It’s just— well—heavenly. Look, something is happening up the street.’ And they both followed the crowd. They stifled a laugh at the sight that met their eyes. To them it was excruciatingly funny. The immaculate Dr. Wilson—hat gone and muffler under one ear hanging to a plunging mustang pony while a scared little country kid clung tightly to the seat of a dilapidated old wagon. When the horse quieted he spoke to the little boy. It was as good as a show —take it all in all. Christmas crowd, snow—the scared shabby little kid and the immaculate Dr. Wilson—and he iooked concerned at that. “Sit tight, little fellow — we'll see what can be done.’ People “‘hushed”’ each other. Dr. Wilson was speaking and they were curious to hear what he had to say. “My good people, will you please listen to me a minute? This little boy has driven nearly forty miles today with a load of turkeys he hopes to sell to you for the holidays. It’s the biggest undertaking of his life and a man’s job. His father is a miner in the Tonopah mines. Mrs. Winant’s benefit when his horse got out of hand. I will sing here instead, and as I sing, I expect you to buy. » The turkeys are big, fine birds—they will be five dollars apiece.”’ Before the crowd, which had hastily moved backwards, could leave, Dr. Wilson began to sing. ‘‘Holy Night, The very depth Odie a) AS he I was on my way, to sing at. mattered and he was singing to her. She held up her hand, “Send two turkeys to the convent, please.”’ As the song ended, she spoke to the driver, “Why do they allow that man to obstruct the street. Back out of here quickly! I want to get home.” The spell was broken but the last turkey was sold! » “‘Let’s take the chappie Christmas shopping,” they yelled. came back in a roar. “No one is rich and no one is poor 34 and the old Empire.is good for a hundred years, at least,’’ was the refrain that ran through their heads those years and when they listened to the whistle of the Narrow Gauge as it brought in more engineers to find more gold . . . it was indeed good to live in Grass Valley _and it was fun this night to make a little lad happy. Fred was home at last. Johnnie was knee deep in fragrant hay. Nipper had made such a nuisance of himself he'd had to be put outside and Mary had refused to let Fred talk until he was warm and fed. But she talked as he ate. The baby seemed almost well—she'd laughed and spoken his name when she put her to bed. The other children had fallen asleep waiting for him and Mary said hesitantly, “I made some Christmas things for the little fellows. Fred tomorrow is Christmas. . The rag doll and the ribbon are for Mary—the”’ Fred could stand it no longer. ‘“‘Mother, come with me." They went out through the dark to the wagon and Fred raised the canvas. The first thing they carried in was a beautfiul Christmas tree and then boxes and bundles till they were tired. ‘‘Oh, this, Mother, this is the money for the turkeys.’’ He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. She looked astounded and he hurried on. ‘I know, Mother, but he sang—oh, Mother, he sang till I cried. I think they paid more for his singing than they did for the turkeys— though they all liked them. And.the miners—Mother—they were so grand. They sent us the Christmas things."’ When the tree was set up and all aglitter with its wealth of ornaments and the presents piled high underneath, Fred stood off and looked at almost in awe. “Oh, Mother—I can’t wait till morning to see their faces. And, Mother, his face was pinched with weariness now, “I! wish Dad could see it— he'd sure know that Santa Claus had found Grasshopper Hill at last.”’ SB SVE eh AGM Me ib hla ad D oP Be The “Ayes” #& ® Fh Siete as > eins = rife: rot P ate ote Sone SS os ee or Sat Sot = SS bao aa ES hast ha hae hae hae hee eta tar tee a ba J a ‘+

USAT: ATOR ROE GROSS iy . there’s no other way. ' ther’s hand. ‘Freddie! Freddie! Get up quick, Daddy's going away today. If you want to see him off deer. Quick! on the stage.” : Mary shook the little boy lightly and becauses most of his young life he'd been used to getting up very early he scrambled from bed and into his clothes while still half asleep. It was still dark at 4 o’clock on this November morning but the farm was stirring. Old Nipper yawned and bark*, ed; roosters crowed; calves bawled and M * 66 ° E were answered by soft ‘moos’ from their mothers lying in their deep straw : beds; horses whinnied and far off on a distant knoll a coyote howled for the breakfast he'd failed to get. Soft thuds were coming from the turkey roosts —young gobblers were dropping to the ground and groping in the darkness, anxious to be starting for the range and their breakfasts of grasshoppers and mullein seed. The cold wind coming from the tarweed fields smelled bitter and someway lonely, and the little group waiting by the stage road shivered as they strained their ears for sounds of the Marysville and Browns Valley stage. And soon they heard it. Clanking, straining harness, blowing horses and a good round oath from the Irish driver as he guided the horses through the deep ruts of the corduroyed old road. The father spoke as he picked up his shabby grip, “Tonopah is a long way .. It’s not good to be going so far just at the beginning of winter—but The Browns Valley mines are done and Farnum and O'Hara know it. It was fine of them to make a place for me over there. It « means we can finish the payments on the ranch, and, Mary, surely we can make it in two years.. When . come back I'll not have to leave home again. it will be hard for all of you this winter—'’ He looked at the little boy in his shabby shrunken coat, “No Christmas this year—-but when I come home Mary, though her face looked tired and thin in the grey morning light, spoke firmly. “We'll be all. right. Fred is old for his years. I can trust him anywhere. He and . can manage anything here— But, Will, please take care of yourself—write often and don’t worry.” a The creaking old stage came to a grinding halt. The driver unbuttoned the side canvas and looked for luggage. “Good-bye, daddy.” The alert, handsome little boy hung tightly to his fa“TH, Pll—oh, Dad, I'll do everything . can—and Dad—when you come home I'll be waiting here by the road.. .” But the thought of the long months ahead was too much. ‘He turned and. ran toward the house’ to hide the tears that washed over the big brown freckles and ran off his chin. Nipper, his dog, always close at his side, whined in.a misery of inadequacy and furiously licked his hand. Fred took a minute to hug the dear woolley head, then grabbed his gun and ran after the turkeys which were fast disappearing over the hill above the house. The wind now was blowing hard and cold from the north. It would be a bad . day. The young gobblers at this stage of their lives, quarrelsome and contemptuous of feminine society, separated from the hens and forming bands of raced crazily against the wind for miles. Nipper loved it. He'd look up at Fred grinning and waiting instructions —then legs outstretched, belly close to the ground, he'd work swiftly and efficiently rounding up the silly birds — keeping the bands close together—routing and scaring the wily coyotes waiting in weed patch and gully for an easy breakfast. During school days Mary worked against time. Doing chores, cooking breakfast; packing lunches — then almost running with the baby in her arms, she'd arrive at the feeding grounds, out of breath, but in time for Fred to reach school before nine. And so the days passed, each filled with work and worry and happiness— all the things that made up the everyday lives of families living in the isolated communities between Marysville and Browns Valley. And then came fattening time. Feeding troughs were kept full now and the turkeys stayed close to home, strutting, quarreling and gobbling till the country rang with their clamor. But Mary and Fred watched over them still with almost feverish anxiety for the. sale of them meant the little family’s security until the cream checks began coming in, in the spring. At a dollar and a half apiece, which was the current price at that time, the 90 turkeys would pay most of their debts and give them a margin to live on. Nothing must happen to the turkeys —and nothing would. It was nearly Christmas and a buyer had already bargained for them and would be there the following Thursday. The two smaller children talked of nothing but Santa Claus and Christmas and Mary, heavy of. heart, dug deep into her trunk for something that might take the place of the shiny new toys their child hearts craved. But it was a sorry heap she unearthed and she put them back with a sigh. And then everything was forgotten when the. baby, restless all one night, awoke with a burning fever. But farm work must go on. Mary bathed the hot little body—then leaving little Mary in charge, she hurried to the barn to help Fred with the turkeys. They had to be driven into the barn to be caught and sorted. And they refused to be driven. Sensing something unusual they resisted every effort to drive them into the barn and when Mary and Fred, aided by Nipper, did accomplish it they rushed frenziedly to the darkest corner and yelped at the top of their lungs. : “Turn the stock hens out, Fred. I’ve got to try again to feed the baby.” Mary ran back to the house. But the baby still burning with fever, pushed the spoon away and vomited weakly. Mary pressed her hands to her temples. ‘‘She’s so sick and . don’t know _what to do.”’ “Mother, Mother,’ Fred flung the door wide as he burst into the kitchen. “They're nearly all dead, . think. They have smothered each other.”’ When the shrieking terrified turkeys were driven from the corner forty lay dying, smothered and trampled to death. Mary leaned weakly. against a stall. Then she spoke to the little boy vainly endeavoring to bring some of them back to life. “Fred, quick! We can save them yet —help me bleed them. Do you remember? One time your father sold dressed turkeys in Grass Valley at Christmas— they were glad to get them. But, oh! the baby—I can’t leave her.”’ Little Fred’s face was all smiles. “‘If we can pick them today I can take them to Grass Valley tomorrow—and Mother, . can sell them, I know. Please, Mother, oh please, it’s what Dad would want me to do.” All day they picked—and half the night—Mary only stopping at intervals to tend the baby and twice she warmed food for the children who played Santa Claus and Christmas with their old dolls. When midnight came the icy store‘room was filled with boxes and tables piled high “with big yellow beauties— their heads wrapped neatly in squares cut from old Marysville Appeals. “Tl call you early, dear,’’ Mary tucked a hot flatiron to the tired little boy's feet, then returned to the kitchen and drawing her chair close to the old buggy that was the baby’s bed, watched anxiously through the night. At 4 o'clock Mary covered the sleeping baby warmly, picked-up the lantern and went out into the night. There was much to be done, but at last she was through. The turkeys were packed neatly in rows———papers and canvas sea Sas eck Shs casas al » Go Grasshopper FG Peaceful Night . .” under and over. them. Johnnie, Fred’s pony had been fed, watered and harnessed and was tied out front waiting the little driver. Mary bent reluctant steps toward the housé:to! rouse. the sleeping boy, but when she opened the door he was up, dressed and had replenished the fire. “Keep this in your inside pocket, Fred.. [It will be plenty for your hotel bill and to put up your horse and wagon. Stay at the Holbrooke Hotel — maybe they will buy some of the turkeys. And Fred, don’t sell them for less than a.dollar and a half.” looked ‘at the little 11-year-old boy and her heart failed her. ‘‘Oh,. Fred, I’m

afraid..’ %: * Fred slapped the lines on Johnnie's back.This must be the outskirts of Grass Valley. He counted the places he'd passed through. Wades, the Ten Mile House, Browns Valley, Sicard Flat, Smartville and Rough and Ready. His hands trembled with nervous worry as night began closing down and a bitter wind sprang up. Johnnie had been mean all day—jumping:and shying at nothing and once when he'd stopped to ask directions, he’d balked. But this was the worst of all. It was such a big town and he didn’t know a soul. And then something cold and wet struck his cheek—his hands—it was like rain but it wasn't. Why this must be snow! “Snow!"’ For a minute he was thrilled to the heart. He'd never seen snow and this was it. It was coming down steadily now—swirling a little with the wind and all at once night came too swiftly down from the hills, black and lonely. At almost the same. time that little Fred was fearfully guiding his horse toward the center of town, a young, fashionably dressed man turned thé corner of Main and Mill streets and hurried through the jostling, merry holiday crowd. People called to him right and ll Long Ago } and sweetness of his beautiful voice _held them. as nothing else could. ace: Mary — and a very merry Christmas.”’ Dr. Wilson was a remarkably handsome man at all times but tonight as he stood there, his black head bared to .the.falling snow, his pale face uplifted as he sang, he seemed more than man and the beautiful old carol went straight to the miners’ hearts.’ Grass Valley was gone and they were agairf with their loved ones in the dear homeland across the sea. ao “Doctor Wilson,” a hack door had opened and a woman's gloved hand beckoned, ‘“Two turkeys, please.” “Thank you, Mabel, God bless you, The woman’s face reddened as she pulled the‘door to. The restive horse splashed through whirling snow. , The crowd would hardly make way. cs for the clanging street cars that emptied . more shoppers into the street to look and listen and buy. “Here's yours, Mr. Loughridge, and thank you, Dr. Jones’’ and through it all Doctor Wilson sang. ‘Abide With Me—With Me” echoed through the fall snow-and the miners’ cheeks wet. ‘“‘Do you mind the cave-in Jack? It was all we had—that prayer. The poor devil that got it that night left two kids about like that one yonder.”’ As the hymn ended Doctor Wilson saw a woman drive her carriage close— then hesitate. He nodded to her as he thought, ““The stingiest, meanest woman in town,” but he looked straight 3 ahead as he sang, ‘“‘Because . Love You.’” While he sang her world was changed. No longer was she old, mean =} and hated. She was again in the magic . world of youth where love was all that left, but he touched his hat and hurried. past. “Who on earth .is' that?”” a young woman with all the air and elegance of Powell street on a Sunday afternoon, touched her companion’s arm. ““That—oh, that’s the 400’s society pet—Dr. Wilson.”’ “Well; he’s the best looking man I've ever seen—and there's plenty of men where . come from. How do you get to know him?” Her companion grinned, ““You don’t —that is, unless you belong to the high society here. I don't. But I do wish you could hear him sing. His looks are as nothing to his voice. It’s just— well—heavenly. Look, something is happening up the street.’ And they both followed the crowd. They stifled a laugh at the sight that met their eyes. To them it was excruciatingly funny. The immaculate Dr. Wilson—hat gone and muffler under one ear hanging to a plunging mustang pony while a scared little country kid clung tightly to the seat of a dilapidated old wagon. When the horse quieted he spoke to the little boy. It was as good as a show —take it all in all. Christmas crowd, snow—the scared shabby little kid and the immaculate Dr. Wilson—and he iooked concerned at that. “Sit tight, little fellow — we'll see what can be done.’ People “‘hushed”’ each other. Dr. Wilson was speaking and they were curious to hear what he had to say. “My good people, will you please listen to me a minute? This little boy has driven nearly forty miles today with a load of turkeys he hopes to sell to you for the holidays. It’s the biggest undertaking of his life and a man’s job. His father is a miner in the Tonopah mines. Mrs. Winant’s benefit when his horse got out of hand. I will sing here instead, and as I sing, I expect you to buy. » The turkeys are big, fine birds—they will be five dollars apiece.”’ Before the crowd, which had hastily moved backwards, could leave, Dr. Wilson began to sing. ‘‘Holy Night, The very depth Odie a) AS he I was on my way, to sing at. mattered and he was singing to her. She held up her hand, “Send two turkeys to the convent, please.”’ As the song ended, she spoke to the driver, “Why do they allow that man to obstruct the street. Back out of here quickly! I want to get home.” The spell was broken but the last turkey was sold! » “‘Let’s take the chappie Christmas shopping,” they yelled. came back in a roar. “No one is rich and no one is poor 34 and the old Empire.is good for a hundred years, at least,’’ was the refrain that ran through their heads those years and when they listened to the whistle of the Narrow Gauge as it brought in more engineers to find more gold . . . it was indeed good to live in Grass Valley _and it was fun this night to make a little lad happy. Fred was home at last. Johnnie was knee deep in fragrant hay. Nipper had made such a nuisance of himself he'd had to be put outside and Mary had refused to let Fred talk until he was warm and fed. But she talked as he ate. The baby seemed almost well—she'd laughed and spoken his name when she put her to bed. The other children had fallen asleep waiting for him and Mary said hesitantly, “I made some Christmas things for the little fellows. Fred tomorrow is Christmas. . The rag doll and the ribbon are for Mary—the”’ Fred could stand it no longer. ‘“‘Mother, come with me." They went out through the dark to the wagon and Fred raised the canvas. The first thing they carried in was a beautfiul Christmas tree and then boxes and bundles till they were tired. ‘‘Oh, this, Mother, this is the money for the turkeys.’’ He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. She looked astounded and he hurried on. ‘I know, Mother, but he sang—oh, Mother, he sang till I cried. I think they paid more for his singing than they did for the turkeys— though they all liked them. And.the miners—Mother—they were so grand. They sent us the Christmas things."’ When the tree was set up and all aglitter with its wealth of ornaments and the presents piled high underneath, Fred stood off and looked at almost in awe. “Oh, Mother—I can’t wait till morning to see their faces. And, Mother, his face was pinched with weariness now, “I! wish Dad could see it— he'd sure know that Santa Claus had found Grasshopper Hill at last.”’ SB SVE eh AGM Me ib hla ad D oP Be The “Ayes” #& ® Fh Siete as > eins = rife: rot P ate ote Sone SS os ee or Sat Sot = SS bao aa ES hast ha hae hae hae hee eta tar tee a ba J a ‘+