A tall Christmas tree, covered to the topmost
branch with candles, spangles, and toys sufficient for more than a
score of children, stood in the centre of the floor. Near sunset
anxious eyes had begun to scan the street for the returning team of
the child-providers. At noon that day Cherokee had dashed into town
with his new sleigh piled high with bundles and boxes and bales of all
sizes and shapes. So intent was he upon the arrangements for his
altruistic plans that the dearth of children did not receive his
notice. No one gave away the humiliating state of Yellowhammer, for
the efforts of Trinidad and the Judge were expected to supply the
deficiency.

When the sun went down Cherokee, with many wings and arch grins on his
seasoned face, went into retirement with the bundle containing the
Santa Claus raiment and a pack containing special and undisclosed
gifts.

"When the kids are rounded up," he instructed the volunteer
arrangement committee, "light up the candles on the tree and set 'em
to playin' 'Pussy Wants a Corner' and 'King William.' When they get
good and at it, why--old Santa'll slide in the door. I reckon there'll
be plenty of gifts to go 'round."

The ladies were flitting about the tree, giving it final touches that
were never final. The Spangled Sisters were there in costume as Lady
Violet de Vere and Marie, the maid, in their new drama, "The Miner's
Bride." The theatre did not open until nine, and they were welcome
assistants of the Christmas tree committee. Every minute heads would
pop out the door to look and listen for the approach of Trinidad's
team. And now this became an anxious function, for night had fallen
and it would soon be necessary to light the candles on the tree, and
Cherokee was apt to make an irruption at any time in his Kriss Kringle
garb.

At length the wagon of the child "rustlers" rattled down the street to
the door. The ladies, with little screams of excitement, flew to the
lighting of the candles. The men of Yellowhammer passed in and out
restlessly or stood about the room in embarrassed groups.

Trinidad and the Judge, bearing the marks of protracted travel,
entered, conducting between them a single impish boy, who stared with
sullen, pessimistic eyes at the gaudy tree.

"Where are the other children?" asked the assayer's wife, the
acknowledged leader of all social functions.

"Ma'am," said Trinidad with a sigh, "prospectin' for kids at Christmas
time is like huntin' in a