“I’d like that rich brown gravy,” murmured the carpenter—­“good and thick and rich and brown.”

“We could rig up a big, long table in the shop,” planned the blacksmith, “and put a hundred candles everywhere, and have the tree all blazin’ with lights, and you bet things would be gorgeous.”

“If we git the tree,” said Lufkins.

“And the rabbit fer a turkey,” added a friend.

“Well, by jinks! you’ll git the lemon-pie all right, if you don’t git nuthin’ else,” declared little Keno.

“If only I can plan it out I’ll fetch the tree,” said Jim.  “I’d like to do that for the little boy.”

“Jim’s an awful clever ole cuss,” said Field, trusting to work some benefit by a judicious application of flattery.  “It ain’t every man which knows the kind of a tree to chop.  Not all trees is Christmas-trees.  But ole Jim is a clever ole duck, you bet.”

“Wal,” drawled Jim, “I never suspect my own intelligence till a man begins to tell me I’m a clever old duck.  Still, I reckon I ain’t over-likely to cut no cherry-trees over to the Pinyon hills.”

“The celebration’s comin’ to a head in bully style, that’s the main concern,” said the teamster.  “I s’pose we’d better begin to invite all the boys?”

“If all of ’em come,” suggested a listener, “that one jack-rabbit settin’ up playin’ turkey will look awful sick.”

“I’d hate to git left on the gravy,” added the carpenter—­“if there’s goin’ to be any gravy.”

“Aw, we’ll have buckets of grub,” said the smith.  “We’ll ask ’em all to ‘please bring refreshments,’ same as they do in families where they never git a good square meal except at surprise-parties and birthday blow-outs.  Don’t you fear about the feed.”

“Well, we ought to git the jig to goin’,” suggested Field.  “Lots of the boys needs a good fair warnin’ when they’re goin’ to tackle cookin’ grub for a Christmas dinner.  I vote we git out of here and go down hill and talk the racket up.”

This motion was carried at once.  The boys filed out with hearty good-nights, and wended their way down the slope, with the bite of the frosted air at their ears.

Then Jim, at the very thought of travelling forty miles to fetch a tree for Christmas gayeties, sat down before his fire to take a rest.

CHAPTER XI

TROUBLES AND DISCOVERIES

For the next ten days the talk of the camp was the coming celebration.  Moreover, man after man was surrounding himself with mystery impenetrable, as he drew away in his shell, so to speak, to undergo certain throes of invention and secret manufacture of presents for the tiny boy at the cabin on the hill.  Knowing nods, sly winks, and jealous guarding of their cleverness marked the big, rough fellows one by one.  And yet some of the most secretive felt a necessity for consulting Jim as to what was appropriate, what would please little Skeezucks, and what was worthy to be tied upon the tree.