Лучшие рождественские рассказы и стихотворения / Best Christmas Stories, Carols and Poems

We tried to rustle a bunch of ’em for your swaree, but this sardine was all we could catch. He’s an atheist, and he don’t believe in Santa Claus. It’s a shame for you to be out all this truck. But me and the Judge was sure we could round up a wagonful of candidates for your gimcracks.’

�That’s all right,’ said Cherokee gravely. �The expense don’t amount to nothin’ worth mentionin’. We can dump the stuff down a shaft or throw it away. I don’t know what I was thinkin’ about; but it never occurred to my cogitations that there wasn’t any kids in Yellowhammer.

’

Meanwhile the company had relaxed into a hollow but praiseworthy imitation of a pleasure gathering.

Bobby had retreated to a distant chair, and was coldly regarding the scene with ennui plastered thick upon him. Cherokee, lingering with his original idea, went over and sat beside him.

�Where do you live, little boy?’ he asked respectfully.

�Granite Junction,’ said Bobby without emphasis.

The room was warm.

Cherokee took off his cap, and then removed his beard and wig.

�Say!’ exclaimed Bobby, with a show of interest, �I know your mug, all right.’

�Did you ever see me before?’ asked Cherokee.

�I don’t know; but I’ve seen your picture lots of times.’

�Where?’

The boy hesitated. �On the bureau at home,’ he answered.

�Let’s have your name, if you please, buddy.’

�Robert Lumsden. The picture belongs to my mother. She puts it under her pillow of nights.

And once I saw her kiss it. I wouldn’t. But women are that way.’

Cherokee rose and beckoned to Trinidad.

�Keep this boy by you till I come back,’ he said. �I’m goin’ to shed these Christmas duds, and hitch up my sleigh. I’m goin’ to take this kid home.’

�Well, infidel,’ said Trinidad, taking Cherokee’s vacant chair, �and so you are too superannuated and effete to yearn for such mockeries as candy and toys, it seems.’

�I don’t like you,’ said Bobby, with acrimony.

�You said there would be a rifle. A fellow can’t even smoke. I wish I was at home.’

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