s which we sometimes meet once or twice
in a lifetime. The children knelt down on the rough floor of the car
beside their improvised beds. Instinctively the hands of the men went to
their heads and at the first words of "Now I lay me down to sleep," four
hats came off. The cow-boy stood twirling his hat and looking at the
little kneeling figures; the cattle-man's vision seemed dimmed; while in
the eyes of the travelling man there shone a distant look--a look across
snow-filled prairies to a warmly lighted home.

The children were soon asleep. Then the rest of us engaged in earnest
conversation. What should we give them? was the question.

"It don't seem to me that I've got anything to give 'em," said the
cow-boy mournfully, "unless the little kid might like my spurs, an' I
would give my gun to the little girl, though on general principles I
don't like to give up a gun. You never know when you're goin' to need
it, 'specially with strangers," he added with a rather suspicious glance
at me. I would not have harmed him for the world.

"I'm in much the same fix," said the cattle-man. "I've got a flask of
prime old whiskey here, but it don't seem like it's very appropriate for
the occasion, though it's at the service of any of you gents."

"Never seen no occasion in which whiskey wasn't appropriate," said the
cow-boy, mellowing at the sight of the flask.

"I mean 'taint fit for kids," explained the cattle-man handing it over.

"I begun on't rather early," remarked the puncher, taking a long drink,
"an' I always use it when my feelin's is onsettled, like now." He handed
it back with a sigh.

"Never mind, boys," said the drummer. "You all come along with me to the
baggage car."

So off we trooped. He opened his trunks, and spread before us such a
glittering array of trash and trinkets as almost took away our breath.

"There," he said, "look at that. We'll just pick out the best things
from the lot, and I'll donate them all."

"No, you don't," said the cow-boy. "My ante's in on this game, an' I'm
goin' to buy what chips I want, an' pay fer 'em too, else there ain't
going to be no Christmas around here."

"That's my judgment, too," said the cattle-man.

"I think that will be fair," said I. "The travelling man can donate what
he pleases, and we can each of us buy what we please, as well."

I think we spent hours looking over the stock which the obliging man
spread out all over the car for us. He was going home, he sa