CHAPTER XII
THE MAKING OF A CHRISTMAS-TREE
Despite the snow that fell that night, despite the near approach ofChristmas, old Jim's discovery aroused a great excitement in the camp.That very evening the news was known throughout all Borealis, and allnext day, in the driving storm, the hill was visited, the ledge wasviewed, and the topic was discussed at length in all its amazingfeatures.
Teamsters, miners, loiterers--all, even including the gambler--came topay their homage at the hiding-place of one of Mammon's family. Allthe mountain-side was taken up in claims. The calmest man in all thehills 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 ahundred dollars' worth of grub for the claim and prospect just as shestands."
"Not to-day," old Jim replied. "I never do no swapping at the other'sfeller'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 lovelythings to do."
"Anyway, I'll send up a lot of grub," declared the gambler, with awonderful softening of the heart. "I was foolin'--just havin' ajoke--the last time you was down to the store. You know you can havethe best we've got in the deck."
"Wal, I 'ain't washed the taste of your joke clean out of my mouth justyet, so I won't bother you to-day," drawled Jim; and with mutteredcurses the gambler left, determined to have that ledge of gold-bearingrock, let the cost be what it might.
"I guess we'll have to quit on that there Christmas-tree," said theblacksmith, who was present with others at the cabin. "Seems youdidn'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," saidJim, "we might have had that tree as well as not. But I'll tell youwhat 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 andmake a tree. That is, you fellers can, for little Skeezucks ain'ta-feelin' right well to-day, and I reckon I'll stay close beside himtill he spruces up."
"What about your mine?" inquired Lufkins.
"It ain't agoin' to run away," said the old philosopher, calmly. "I'lllet it set there for a few more days, as long as I can't hang it up onthe tree. It's just my little present to the boy, anyhow."
If anything had been needed to inject new enthusiasm into the plans fora Christmas celebration or to fire anew the boyhood in the men, thefind of gold at Jim's very door would have done the trick a dozen timesover.
With hearts new-created for the simple joys of their labor, the bigrough fellows cut the meagre growth of leafless trees at the spring inthe small ravine, and gathered evergreen mountain-tea that grew inscrawny clusters here and there on the mountains.
Armful after armful of this, their only possible material, they carriedto the blacksmith's shop below, and there wrought long and hard andearnestly, tying together the wisps of green and the boughs and trunksof tender saplings.
Four of the stalks, the size of a lady's wrist, they fastened togetherwith twisted wire to form the main support, or body, of their tree, Tothis the reconstructed, enlarged, and strengthened branches werelikewise wired. Lastly, the long, green spikes of the mountain shrubwere tied on, in bunches, like so many worn-out brooms. The tree, whencompleted and standing in its glory in the shop, was a marvellouscreation, fully as much like a fir from the forest as a hair-brush islike a palm.
Then began the scheme of its decoration. One of the geniuses broke upcountless bottles, for the red and green glass they afforded, and,tying the pieces in slings of cord, hung them in great profusion fromthe tree's peculiar arms. From the ceiling of his place of business,Bone, the barkeep, cut down a fluffy lot of colored paper, stuck therein a great rosette, and with this he added much original beauty to thepile. Out of cigar-boxes came a great heap of bright tin-foil thatwent on the branches in a way that only men could invent.
The carpenter loaded the structure with his gaudy blocks. The man whohad promised to make a "kind of kaliderscope" made four or five insteadof one. They were white-glass bottles filled with painted pebbles,buttons, dimes, chopped-up pencils, scraps of shiny tin, and anythingor everything that would lend confusion or color to the bottle'sinterior as the thing was rolled about or shaken in the hands. Thesewere so heavy as to threaten the tree's stability. Therefore, they hadto be placed about its base on the floor.
The blacksmith had made a lot of little axes, shovels, picks, andhammers, all of which had been filed and polished with the greatestcare and affectionate regard for the tiny man whose tree and Christmasall desired to make the finest in the world.
The teamster had evolved, from the inside lining of his winter coat, ahybrid duck-dog-bear that he called a "woolly sheep."
One of the men had whittled out no less than four fat tops, all ringedwith colors and truly beautiful to see, that he said were the best hehad ever beheld, despite the fact that something was in them thatseemed to prevent them from spinning.
Another old fellow brought a pair of rusty skates which were largeenough for a six-foot man. He told of the wonderful feats he had onceperformed 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 thecamp, who fetched a drum that would actually make a noise. He hadbuilt this wonder out of genuine sheep-skin, stretched over both of theends of a bright tin can of exceptional size, from which he had eatenthe contents solely with the purpose in view of procuring the metalcylinder.
There were wooden animals, cut-out guns, swords and daggers,wagons--some of them made with spools for wheels--a sled on which thepaint was still wet, and dolls suspiciously suggestive ofpotato-mashers and iron spoons, notwithstanding their clothing. Therewere balls of every size and color, coins of gold and silver, and booksmade up of pasted pictures, culled for the greater part from cans ofpeaches, oysters, tomatoes, lobsters, and salmon.
Nearly every man had fashioned something, and hardly anything had beenleft unpainted. The clumsy old "boys" of the town had labored withuntold patience to perfect their gifts. Their earnestness over thechild and the day was a beautiful thing to see. Never were presentsmore impressive as to weight. The men had made them splendidly strong.
The gifts had been ticketed variously, many being marked "For LittleSkeezucks," but by far the greatest number bore the inscription: "ForBruvver 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 ofthe men to the last degree. If a candle prefers one set of antics toanother, that set is certainly embodied in the versatile schemes forlopping over, which the wretched thing will develop on thebest-behaving tree in the world. On a home-made tree the opportunitiesfor a candle's enjoyment of this, its most diverting ofaccomplishments, are increased remarkably. The day was cold, but themen perspired from every pore, and even then the night came on beforethe work was completed.
When at length they ceased their labors for the day, there was stillbefore them the appalling task of preparing the Christmas banquet.
In the general worry incident to all such preparations throughout theworld, Parky, the gambler, fired an unexpected shot. He announced hisintention 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 theblacksmith, grimly. "Well--he may get some to come, but none of oldJim's friends or the fellers which likes little Skeezucks is goin' todesert our own little festival."
Nevertheless, the glitter of the home-made tree in the dingy shop wasdimmed.
Bruvver Jim's Baby Page 12
