Richmond planet. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1883-1938, 1899-12-30

circumstances, blame Little Hank for look
ing upon ell strangers with an eye of sus-
picion; but he though. the chances of pop-
ping his gaze on Santa Claus by daylight
were extremely small Several millions OF
boys, In different parts Of the world, had
been keeping their eyes open for years with
out avail, and there had come to be a popu-
lar belief that the jolly fellow with the rein
deers travelled principally in the dark
That's the way he hit this ranch last
Christmas, and / reckon he left 1t till about
the last ranch on his rounds" remarked the
boy. He didn't leave me a thing that
wanted--nuthin' but little tin wagon and
a pound of candy. Say mister, dye reckon
Santa Claus ever handles windchestersf
The appearance of the elder Hank Grimm
spared Wells the necessity Of answering
this difficult query. The owner of the Two
Boot ranch was a man well advanced in
years, and possessed of a sturdy, erect fig
u-e, square-cut features and sky-blue eyes,
that told at once of German ancestry and Of
past service in the armies Of the old world or
the new. de welcomed the traveller heart
ily, directed him how to dispose Of his
horses for the night, and then abruptly
turned away and entered the house. Little
Hank remained behind and, in his quaint,
boyish way, superinteDded Wells every
movement.
A covey of quail that hao been foragingi in
the vicinity of the crib flushed at their ap-
proach and settled in the prairie grass a
short distance away. Little Hank clamored
to have one of them killed for his Christmas
breakfast, and to please him, on their re-
turn to the buggy, Wells slipped a couple Of
bird loads In his Parker, and. when the
covey rose again, grassed three plump beau
ties with hasty double shot. The boy was
in perfect ecEtssies over his success.
That's better'n you could do with a
wfndchester," he remarked, In tone de-
noting that he considered this the height of
possible praise. "Gran'paw says a shotgun
Is no good; but reckon It depends heap
on who shoots 1t. / never seed but one be-
fore, and it wasn't wuth shucxs- 1t be-
4 longed to q man from Arksnsaw, end he
couldn't hit the broadside of mule
The travellers effects were soon trans
ferred to the living room Of the ranch, where
he was introduced to the ranchman's aged
wife, and Found that the only occupants of
the place were themselves and their pre-
cocious grandson. Grimm was a German of
the old school, with true Teutonic ideas of
comfort, and IL seemed that unusual prep
arations Tor the evening meal had been made
In honor of his visitors. All in the way Of
! food that the ranch could offer was on the
table, and, surmounting the array of snowy
/ SAo~oAeSR nam ah0 cbkSs JUICY tledk ana
canned fruit, stood a group OF ancient glass
decanters, their con tents shining in a grada.
ton Of colors from deep red to straw vel
low.
J Little Hank seemed to look upon his share
Of the feast as an especial treat, and after It
was disposed Of his tongue ran more glibly
than ever. At length his grandsire suspend
ed for 3 moment a morsel Of beef half raised
to his mouth, and uttered word of reproof.
Henry, my boy, it is not right that the
children should talk and the grown ones
listen. Remember, you should be very good
tonight. They say that Santa Claus to bad
boys is not kind"
but see" retorted the lad, quickly. ct
was good before and what did he bring me |?
Nothing. l wanted winchester and he
brought me a tin wagon"
The child would be man before his
time" put IN his grandmother. He talks
of nothing but guns; and if he had them he
would kill US all, and himself in the bar
gain"
Il would be brave soldier-like my IA
ther," said the boy, his eyes filing with
tears.
and be killed by the Indians, as was he, I"
responded the old ranchman. My child, the
Grimms have been soldiers since the earliest
days. l have fought, in my time, with brave
men to lead me on TO battle, and ] tell you
there is nothing in notwithstanding but
hard work and slavery and bloodshed and
death. 1t is a dogs life: nothing more"
Later in the night, when Wells and Little
Hank were snugly slowed away in the lat
tsr's bed, the question of Santa Claus and
the Winchester came up again, but no
lengthy discussion followed.
1t must have been sometime after mid
night when Wells was partially aroused by
the knowledge that some one was moving in
the room, and called ont TO know who it
might be.
Nobody but me-Hank Grimm. Not
gran'paw, but the little one. You know
But that was quite enough for the SOM
nolent gentleman from San Antonio. If the
sentence was finished he failed to hear its
conclusion. Sometime afterwards however
he was aroused again; and this time so thor
oughy that he heard and understood the
words that awoke him They evidently
came from the Giving room" into which his
apartment opened, and were uttered at the
top of Little Hanks childish treble.
Thar now, Santa Claus. I've got you thi.
time, and either that Winchester comes OF
l downs your meat-house. No tin wagons
for me this Christmas"
There was fierce curse grittingly nut
tered; the sharp crack of pistol; and Their
boom! boom;-two thunderous report.
almost as one, shaking the adobe walls o
the ranch to their foundations A dens,
volume of smoke rolled into the sleepin,
room, but Wells charged through it Will
ready rifle, reaching the outer apartment
just as old Grimm entered from anothel
door light in hand.
Little Hank lay beneath the huge table
groaning dismally and rubbing his shoulder
Otherwise the room was unoccupied; but
window near the door was open, and on tn