everal miscellaneous stores, where
anything from a baby's rattle to a bag of fertilizer or a bedroom
suite could be purchased, he had no difficulty in gathering such
gay-coloured trifles, together with more lasting gifts, as he thought
would meet Lidey's anticipations. When he went to his wife's people,
he found that all had something to add to his Santa Claus pack, for
Mary as well as for the little one; and he hugged himself with elation
at the thought of what a Christmas there was going to be in the lonely
wilderness cabin. He had bought two or three things for his wife; and
when he shouldered his pack, slinging it high and strapping it close
that it might not flop with his rapid stride, he found the burden no
light one. But the lightness of his heart made compensation.

That night he took but two hours' sleep in the old lumber camp, aiming
to reach home soon after noon. In the morning, however, things began
to go wrong. First the pack, as packs sometimes will for no visible
reason, developed a kink that galled his shoulders obstinately. Again
and again he paused and tried to readjust it. But in vain. Finally he
had to stop, undo the bundle, and rearrange every article in it,
before he could induce it to "carry" smoothly.

Half an hour later, as he turned a step off the trail to get a drink
at a bubbling spring, that kept open all through the bitterest winter,
he caught his snowshoe on a buried branch and fell forward, breaking
the frame. In his angry impatience he attempted no more than a
temporary repair of the damage, such as he thought might see him to
the end of his journey. But the poor makeshift broke down before he
had gone a mile. There was nothing for him to do but to stop long
enough to make a good job of it, which he did by chopping out a piece
of ash, whittling down a couple of thin but tough strips, and splicing
the break securely with the strong "salmon twine" that he always
carried. Even so, he realized that to avoid further delay he would
have to go cautiously and humour the mend. And soon he had to
acknowledge to himself that it would be long after supper-time, long
after Lidey's bed-time, before he could get home.

As the moon rose, he was accompanied by his shadow, a gigantic and
grotesque figure that danced fantastically along the snow before him.
As the moon climbed the icy heaven, the shadow shortened and acquired
more sobriety of demeanour. Plodding doggedly onward, too tired to
think, Dave