s goats to the sled and drive all the way up there and hunt
polar bears, and I'd hunt for sealskins, too, so you could give mother
a coat. I heard her say she wanted you to give her one. Wouldn't it be
fine if I could get a great big bearskin and a sealskin, too! I wish I
had Johnny's goats!"

"You must have dogs up there to draw your sled," said his father.

"All right! After I got there I would get Santa Claus to give me
some," said Tommy. "But you give me the gun."

His father laughed again. "Well, maybe--some day," said he.

"'Some day' is too far away," said Tommy. "I want to go now."

"Not so far away when you are my age," said his father smiling. "Ah,
there is where the North Star is," he said, pointing. "You cannot see
it yet. I will show it to you later, so you can steer by it."

"That is the way Santa Claus comes," said Tommy, his eyes on the
Northern sky. "I am going to wait for him tomorrow night."

"You know he does not bring things to boys who keep awake!"

"I know; but I won't let him see me."

As they trudged along Tommy suddenly asked, "Don't you wish, Father,
Santa Claus would bring Johnny a cow for his mother?"

"Why, yes," said his father.

"Like Cowslip or Rose or even old Crumpled Horn?"

"Like our cows!" echoed his father, absently. "Why, yes."

"Because they are all fine cows, you know. Peake says so, and Peake
knows a good cow," said Tommy, proud of his intimacy with the farmer.
"I tell you what I am going to do when I get home," he declared. "I am
going to write another letter to Santa Claus and put it in the chimney
and ask him to send Johnny a whole lot of things: a cow and a gun and
all sorts of things. Do you think it's too late for him to get it
now?"

"I don't know. It is pretty late," said his father. "Why didn't you
ask him to send these things to Johnny when you wrote your other
letter?"

"I did not think of it," said Tommy, frankly. "I forgot him."

"Do you ask only for yourself?"

"No. For little Sis and Mother and Peake and one other, but I'm not
going to tell you who he is."

His father smiled. "Not Johnny?"

"No," said Tommy. "I forgot him."

"I am afraid I did, too," said his father slowly. "Well, write
another and try. You can never tell. Trying is better than crying."

This was two days before Christmas. And the next afternoon Tommy went
again with his father to the coasting-hill to see the boys and once
more take a coast with Johnny. But no Johnny was