Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1902-05-08

with it reverence for the minister ana
contempt for papsts and Fenians, but
that he had Il vivid remembrance or
how, only a month ago, the minister
had got him cut of Mike Slavfn's sa-
loon and out of the clutches of Keefe
and Slavin and their gang of blood
suckers.
Kcefe started up with curse Bap'
tiste sprang to Sandy's side, slapped
him on the back and called out:
"You keel him. I'll hit (eat him up,
me-"
1t looked as if there might be fight
when a harsh voice said in low, saw.
age tone:
stop your row, you blank fools.
Settle it, if you want to, somewhere
else"
| turned and was amazed to see old
man Nelson, who was very seldom
moved to speech.
There was look of scorn on his
hard, iron gray face and of such set.
tied fierceness as made me quite be-
liove the tales | had heard of his dead
w fights in the mines at the coast. Be
fore any reply could be made the min
lister drove up and called out in a
CHEEKY voice:
Merry Christmas boys. Hello, San.
dy! Comment ca va, Baptiste? How
do you do, Mr.. Gracmc:'
First rate. Let me introduce my
friend, Mr.. Conner, sometime medical
student now artist. hunter and tramp
at large, but not a bad sort
"A man to be envied," said the min
lister, smiling. 81 am glad TO know any
friend of Mr.. Graemes"
liked Mr.. Craig from the first. He
had good eyes that looked straight out
at you, clean cut, strong face, well
set on his shoulders, and altogether
an outstanding, manly bearing. He i'll
/ sisted on going with Sandy to the sta
blcs to see Dandy, his broncho, put up
Decent fellow" said Graeme; but
though he is good enough to his bron
cho, it is Sandy that's in his mind
now"
"Docs he come out often? l mean
are you part of his parish. SO to
speak,
Il have no doubt he thinks so, and
I'm bowed If he doesn't make the
Presbyterians of us think so too And
he added. after Il pause: "a dandy lot
of parishioncrs we are for any man.
There's Sandy. now. He would knock
Keefcs head off as kind of religious
exercise, but tomorrow Keefe will be
sober, and Sandy will be drunk as a
lord, and the drunken he is the better
Presbyterian he'll be, to the preacher S
disgust" Then, after another pause,
he added bitterly: But it is not for
me to throw rocks at Sandy. l am not
the same kind Of fool, but l am foo
of several other sorts"
Then the cook came out and beat O
tattoo on the bottom of a dishpan
Baptiste answered with a yell; but
though kcenly hungry, no man would
demean himself to do other than walk
with apparent reluctance to his place
at the table. At the farther end of the
camp was big fireplace, and from the
door to the fireplace extended the long
board tables, covered with platters OF
turkey not too scientifically carved
dishes of potatoes, bowls of apple
sauce plates of butter pies and smaller
dishes distributed at regular intervals
Two lanterns hanging from the root
', and a row of candles stuck into Tie
wall on either side by means of slit
sticks cast dim, weird light over the
scene
There was moments silence, and
at a nod from Graeme, Mr.. Craig ros,
and said:
Il don't know how you feel about it
men, but to me this looks good enough
to be thankful for"
"Fire ahead, sir" called out voice
quite respectfully, and the minister
bent his head and said:
For Christ the Lord, who came t.
save us. for all the love and goodness
we have known and for these thy gift
to us this Christmas night, our Father
make us thankful. Amen"
"Bon, Oats fuss rate" said Bap
tiste; "seems lax OATS make me hi
more better for sure"
And then no word was spoken for
quarter of an hour. The occasion wa
far too solemn and moments too pre-
but when the white piles of bread an,
the brown piles of turkey had for {
, second time vanished and after the las
pie had disappeared there came n paus
and hush Of expectancy, whcreupol
the cook and cookee, each bearing alof
huge, blazing pudding, came forth.
"Hooray" yelled Blaney. "Up wi,
vel" And, grabbing the cook by tn
shoulders from behind, he faced hin
about.
Mr.. Craig was the first to respon
and, Selling the cookie in the same
, way, called out
"Squad, fall in! Quick march"
In moment every man was in the
procession.
"Strke up, Batchees, ye little angel"
shouted Blaney, the appellation con
ceSsOn to the minister's presence, ant
, away went Baptiste in a rollickins
French song with the English chorus:
, "Then blow. We winds. in the morning
Blow, we winds. ay oh!
7, Blow ye winds in the morning,
( Blow, blow, blow!
b, And at each elbow" every boot came
e down with thump on the plank fool
r that shook the solid roof. After the
\ second round Mr.. Craig jumped upon