him a Christmas card or
something. He had seen her only twice since the sale, and each time she
had whizzed past him in Canby's machine on the way to Prouty. The sight
had given him a curious feeling which he had tried to analyze but had
been unable to find a satisfactory name for it.

Altogether, Wallie felt very lonely and forlorn and forgotten this
Christmas morning as he lay in a knot under the soogan, listening to the
wind twanging the stove-pipe wire and contemplating his present and
future.

He had discovered that by craning his neck slightly when in a certain
position he could look through a crack and see the notch in the mountain,
below which was the Spenceley ranch, according to Pinkey. He was
prompted to do so now, but an eyeful of snow discouraged his
observation, so he decided that he would get up, feed his animals and,
after breakfast, wash his shirt and a few towels by way of recreation.

The cabin was not only as cold as it looked but colder, and as Wallie
hopped over the floor bare-footed and shivering he reflected that very
likely his potatoes and onions were frozen and wished he had taken them
to bed with him.

They were, unmistakably, for they rattled like glass balls when he
picked up several onions and examined them with a pained expression.

Wallie was still wearing much of the wardrobe he had brought with him,
and when dressed to go outside he was warm but unique in a green velour
hat, his riding breeches, brilliant golf stockings that were all but
feetless thrust in arctics, a blue flannel shirt from the Emporium in
Prouty, and a long, tight-fitting tan coat which had once been very
smart indeed.

The snow had stopped falling by the time he had done his chores and
breakfasted. The only benefit the storm had brought him was that it did
away with the necessity of carrying water for his washing. He had
acquired the agility of a cliff-dweller from scaling the embankment by
means of the "toe-holts"; yet, at that, it was no easy matter to
transport a bucket of water without spilling it.

He wished for a well every time that he panted in from a trip to the
creek, and meant to have one as soon as he could afford it.

While the snow-water was melting Wallie considered the manner in which
he should prepare the prairie-dogs. He presumed that it was too much to
expect that the cook book would have anything to say on the subject, but
it surely would recognize rabbit, and a recipe suitable for one w