Christmas eve ushered in bitter weather.  All day it had been snowing and storming.  At 1 a.m. the glass showed twenty-two below zero.  The storm had risen and risen until it was blowing a perfect blizzard from the west.  The riotous wind, as it swept along the vast prairie, unobstructed for scores of miles by houses or trees, caught up the newly-fallen snow in its mad embrace, and drove it with amazing force against the little telegraph office which sheltered me from its deathly embrace, as though enraged against this earnest of approaching civilization.  So fierce, at times, was the onslaught that the tense telegraph wires could be heard humming even above the demoniacal glee of the storm.

I knew it was unmanly, but I could not help it:  the tears would start to my eyes.  It was Christmas, and I was spending it in such a queer manner!  My thoughts had been with mother and dear old London, where I had left her two years before to try my fortune in Montreal.  I knew she was thinking of her eldest born.

    “Christians, awake, salute the happy morn.”

All I had to do was to close my eyes, and I could hear my companions singing that grand old hymn in the greatest city in the world.

It was a relief to hear the telegraph instrument, which had been quiet for hours, call my office.  Both passenger trains were nearly ten hours late, and were slowly struggling towards my station.  It was just 2 a.m. when I received the order from the dispatcher at Winnipeg to detain the east-bound train at my station when she arrived, till the west-bound express crossed her—­double tracks are yet unknown out there.

I replied back that I understood the order, and was just about to let the red lantern swing round from the station and face the track, when I was startled by hearing a tremendous kicking and howling at the door.  In my surprise, I forgot to turn the lamp which was to signal the engineer to stop at the station for orders.

Little wonder I was agitated.  The nearest house was seven miles away, and no white man could have walked a tenth of that distance in such a blizzard and have lived.  Had the shouting and kicking been less imperative, I might have been superstitious.  With trembling hands I drew the bolt.  Before I could step aside the door was thrown violently open, and to my dismay two stalwart Cree Indians burst into the little office.  It was the manner of the savages in entering that made me feel nervous.  It was no uncommon thing for me to have Indians drop into the station at night, and to see roaming bands of them pass the station at all hours; but two drunken Cree Indians, even a native scout might have been pardoned for fearing had he been unarmed and placed in my position.

Without appearing to notice me, the braves walked over to the glowing wood stove and began to warm themselves.  I wanted to show that I trusted them, and brought two chairs and asked them to be seated.  As I spoke they both turned their wicked, black eyes on me, but did not deign to speak.  Kicking the chairs to one side they began taking off their great skin-coats and caps and red-and-white blankets.