Charlie nodded at his partner with serious conviction.
"Now, there's the Roneys," he waved his pipe over his shoulder. "The old man told me to-night when I was up after the cows that he's sold all the crops except what they need for feedin'—wheat, and corn, and everything, and some hogs besides—and ain't got hardly enough now for feed and clothes for all that family. The rent and the lumber he had to buy to build the new barn after the old one burnt ate up the money like fury. He kind of laughed, and said he guessed the children wouldn't get much Christmas this year. I didn't think about it's being so close when he told me."
"No Christmas!" Nels' round eyes widened with astonishment. "Ay tank dose been pooty bad!" He studied the subject for a few moments, his stolid face suddenly grown thoughtful. Charlie stared at the stove. Far away by the river a lonely coyote set up his quick, howling yelp.
"Dere's been seven kids oop dere," said Nels at last, glancing up as it for corroboration.
"Yes, seven," agreed Charlie.
"Say, do ve need Seigert's team very pad?"
"Well, now that depends," said Charlie. "Why not?"
"Nothin', only Ay vas tankin' ve might tak' some a das veat we vas goin' to sell and—and—"
"Yep, what?"
"And dumb it on Roney's granary floor to-night after dere been asleeb."