talking in the mellow glow; but
their talk was not of the Indians, nor of the chase, nor of themselves,
but of those behind at Wareville. Paul shut his eyes and looked dreamily
into the fire. He could see the people at the settlement getting ready for
the great festival, preparing little gifts, and the children crawling
reluctantly into their homemade trundle, or box beds. He felt at that
moment a deep kindness toward all things.

They covered up the ashes after a while, and then, in the darkness, every
one in his turn laid out some little gift for the others--a clasp knife, a
powderhorn, a prized deerskin, or something else that counted among his
possessions. But no one was to look until the morning, and soon all fell
asleep.

They were up the next day at the first sight of dawn, and compared their
gifts with great rejoicings. Shif'less Sol had presented to Jim Hart a
splendid clasp knife, a valuable possession in the wilderness, as a token
of his great friendship and exceeding high regard, and Jim was like a
child in his delight. In fact, there was something of the child, or rather
of the child's simplicity, in all of them.

The Christmas dinner was a signal triumph in Jim Hart's life. Capably
assisted by Paul and Shif'less Sol, he labored on it most of the day, and
at last they sat down to a magnificent wilderness table of buffalo hump,
venison, squirrel, rabbit, fish, wild turkey, and other kinds of game,
flanked by bread baked of the Indian meal, and finished off with the nuts
Paul had gathered. Forest and lake had yielded bounteously, and they ate
long and happily.

"Why anybody wants to live back thar in the East in the towns is more'n I
can understand," said Shif'less Sol. "You've got room to breathe here, an'
the fat game is runnin' roun' in the woods, jest beggin' you to stick a
knife in its back an' eat it."

Paul laughed.

"How about the danger from the Indians, Sol?" asked Paul.

"You don't expect to have a perfect world here below, do you, Paul?"
replied Shif'less Sol. "Thar ain't never nothin' without a thorn in it,
but our thorn is about ez little a one ez you could think of. The Injuns
give us a kind o' excitin' variety, an' don't we always get away from
'em?"

No more work was done that day, and in the evening they went to sleep
earlier than usual, and slept very soundly. A moon of pure silver came
out, and bathed all the vast wilderness in its light. A huge, yellow
panther, lean and fierce