The Kootenai herald. [volume] (Kootenai, Idaho) 1891-1904, 1894-12-29


tree. He chose sturdy, thick-boughed,
yet tall tree that would bend against
the kitchen ceiling and hang over like
bower, and then chop, chop, went his
clumsy ak, fast and far flew the resin
Gus chips as his fingers limbered to their
task. A deep cash upon this side and
that he made, then the tree fell stark
and green upon the snow. The little
boy blew upon his fingers. shufied his
boots back and forth and whistled mer-
rily again. A snow-bunting, perched on
sumac pompon, twittered gaily.
That's you, Mr. Bird" said the little
boy. you can sing just the way a Teller
feels at Christmas timer
Once more blowing on his fingers he
knotted rope about the trunk, fastened
his ak to it, and began to drag his tree
home. 1t was three miles to his home,
but he did not mind that. He rubbed
the palms of his hands together, and
with ''he-haw, get up there" pulled
and pulled, the tree catching now on a
stump, now at a bush, and now at a
sister tree as If it could not bear to be
torn away.
Come on, won't your" said the little
boy, and never did any beast of burden
little boy tugged upon his tree.
Now mile was gone. He wondered
that his eyes felt duh and that his
fingers were neither warm nor cold
His feet, too, ached no more than pair
of fiatirons. With nothing to complain
of, he tried to whistle 1t was no later
than noon, the sleet had stopped, the
wind was quieting, and the sun shone
through a half thawed placed in the
clouds, yet the little boy could scarcely
see. Once it came to him that he would
like to sit down and rest, but no, he was
too anxious that the children at home
should see what fine tree he had found
He wound the rope about his waist and
forged three yards ahead, but still in
that strange blindness and with a
stranger singing in his ears.
Come on, Billy" he cried, What
you so lazy for? Get-up with you"
Thus urging himself he went on again,
but oh, so slowly, his tracks zig-zagging
and his whistling so vague that not a
note could be caught for echo by the
hills.
"S'pose l leave the tree" the little
boy whispered, for somehow it was
hard to speak aloud II could come
tomorrow for it,"
But how disappointed the children
would be. They loved to have the
Christmas tree seasoning for three days
or more outside the door before it was
brought in for the tissue paper flowers
and the angel. The angel! How pretty
it was with it's gauze skirts and gilt
wings! How carefully mother packed
it away in the tissue paper flowers till
the next year! Were the angels in
Heaven like that? Were they packed
away in flowers? The little boy was
not dragging the tree now; he had fallen
at it's foot, his fair face pressed deep
into the snow that banked the road
side.
Down the road jingled the doctors
cutter. 1t was going very fast, and the
doctor himself was in excellent spirits
for he had just come from surgical
operation that had saved the life Of the
old farmer who lived FIVE miles back.
His hands were cold and he stamped
his feet under the fur robes to keep
them from aching, but he did not care
for that because he was so sure the old
farmer would be well in short time
"Ahp' he said, there is a nice Christ
mas tree somebody has dropped by the
roadside, and what is that beside it?"
In an instant he had stopped his sleigh
and was out in the snow to his boot
tops, brushing the snow from what?
Lifting the fair cold face of whom?
The little boy whose stiffened fingers
still clasped the Christmas tree.
George Browns boy, as I'm aliver'
exclaimed the doctor.
"And he's aliver' he added the next
moment, putting something to the
poor, frozen little lips, as he laid his
hand upon the faintest pulse.
1t was no matter if the little boy did
not realize the drive home with the
doctor, nor that the Christmas tree
trailed after them by the rope was
badly worn off on the under side, for
he was well and strong by Christmas
day. There was a gold piece dangling
on the Christmas tree for him, and a
splendid assortment of clear candies
and snapper bonbons which the doctor
had sent so that the angel and tissue
paper flowers would not look so lonely.
And the merriest of all was the little