paint was still wet, and dolls suspiciously suggestive of
potato-mashers and iron spoons, notwithstanding their clothing. There
were balls of every size and color, coins of gold and silver, and books
made up of pasted pictures, culled for the greater part from cans of
peaches, oysters, tomatoes, lobsters, and salmon.

Nearly every man had fashioned something, and hardly anything had been
left unpainted. The clumsy old "boys" of the town had labored with
untold patience to perfect their gifts. Their earnestness over the
child and the day was a beautiful thing to see. Never were presents
more impressive as to weight. The men had made them splendidly strong.

The gifts had been ticketed variously, many being marked "For Little
Skeezucks," but by far the greatest number bore the inscription: "For
Bruvver 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 of
the men to the last degree. If a candle prefers one set of antics to
another, that set is certainly embodied in the versatile schemes for
lopping over, which the wretched thing will develop on the
best-behaving tree in the world. On a home-made tree the opportunities
for a candle's enjoyment of this, its most diverting of
accomplishments, are increased remarkably. The day was cold, but the
men perspired from every pore, and even then the night came on before
the work was completed.

When at length they ceased their labors for the day, there was still
before them the appalling task of preparing the Christmas banquet.

In the general worry incident to all such preparations throughout the
world, Parky, the gambler, fired an unexpected shot. He announced his
intention 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 the
blacksmith, grimly. "Well--he may get some to come, but none of old
Jim's friends or the fellers which likes little Skeezucks is goin' to
desert our own little festival."

Nevertheless, the glitter of the home-made tree in the dingy shop was
dimmed.

CHAPTER XIII

THEIR CHRISTMAS-DAY

The day before Christmas should, by right of delights