The dusk was deepening when he mounted his wagon. Beyond Henry’s Fork, he met the Culbersons returning with their guest; he eyed them sharply as they passed. After he had crossed the bottoms and was out on the snow-covered flat, he laughed happily.
“It beat throwing them into the creek,” he said, “and the boy is just right for the gun!”
******
As soon as the family and their guest crossed the creek and reached the plateau they saw the light of the bright new lamp.
“Oh, Pa’s come, our Pa’s come home for Christmas!” shouted Henry Clay, joyously.
“Don’t be so excited, Henry Clay. You tend to driving them dunkeys, or you will have Mis’ Clark dumped off in the snow. That’d be a fine way to treat a neighbor, wouldn’t it? You children quit twisting round. If any of you fall off, you’ll have to walk to the house.”
Thus admonished, the children sat as still as they could. Henry Clay tried to get the donkeys to hurry, but donkeys have ways of their own. At last they drew up before the door of the cabin. The children would have rushed into the cabin, but their mother restrained them.
“My goodness, children, where are your manners? Pa’s made a fire; don’t you see the smoke? You just behave yourselves.”
Once inside, the little group stood amazed. The new lamp burned brightly; boxes, bundles and packages were scattered everywhere about the place. Grandma Clark, stiff with the cold, went at once to the stove. The fire burned merrily. She held her hands to the grateful warmth, and said, “Your man’s a right good provider, Mis’ Culberson.”
“But where’s Pa?” asked C’listie.