u're asleep. And they make marks in the soot in
the chimney with the tongs to look like Santa's sleigh tracks."

"That might be so," argued Trinidad, "but Christmas trees ain't no
fairy tale. This one's goin' to look like the ten-cent store in
Albuquerque, all strung up in a redwood. There's tops and drums and
Noah's arks and--"

"Oh, rats!" said Bobby, wearily. "I cut them out long ago. I'd like to
have a rifle--not a target one--a real one, to shoot wildcats with;
but I guess you won't have any of them on your old tree."

"Well, I can't say for sure," said Trinidad diplomatically; "it might
be. You go along with us and see."

The hope thus held out, though faint, won the boy's hesitating consent
to go. With this solitary beneficiary for Cherokee's holiday bounty,
the canvassers spun along the homeward road.

In Yellowhammer the empty storeroom had been transformed into what
might have passed as the bower of an Arizona fairy. The ladies had
done their work well. 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 [107] 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 th