An hour later a man rode down the trail back of the house and quite out of range of its windows. Tying his horse at the side of the stable away from the house he crept to the corner of the building and cautiously peeped out.
The smoke was curling briskly from the cabin chimney and in the tense stillness he could hear noises which indicated very plainly that the letter to "Sandy Claws" had borne fruit, for the most ear-splitting sounds were coming from the cabin, sounds which he knew to be the natural results of three tin horns in the mouths of three delighted kids.
As he stood there a door slammed, and a girl stepped out on the porch arrayed in the most gorgeous sweater he had ever imagined. On her head was a jaunty cap of the same color and material as the sweater, while in her hands she held a tin bucket in which most unquestionably was the breakfast for the chickens which were making loud demands for release from their log coop near the stable.
In his inmost heart Bill Gibson knew that if ever a man was blessed by the Gods with the one opportunity of his life, it was facing him at this very moment. Nancy came tripping down the snowy path a perfect picture of girlish beauty and happiness. Gibson drew back so she could not see him until she had turned the corner of the stable. As she did so and met his eyes the song turned into a maidenly shriek. Her cheeks were blazing like two peonies, she tried hard to speak, but the words died on her lips. Mechanically she set the bucket of feed on a small shelf where the chickens could not reach it. Bill interpreted the move as meaning either a fight or complete surrender. He believed it was the latter and took a step toward her.
"Christmas gift, Nancy," he said. His voice had an odd quaver in it. "Old Santy seems to have brung you the sort of sweater you wanted." He was gaining confidence.
"He sure did," she replied, striving in vain to keep her eyes from meeting his.
"Nancy," he demanded, "ain't you got nothing for me this grand Christmas morning?"
"What you wanting mostly?" her eyes fairly dancing with mischief and telling what her lips dared not.
A look of triumph swept over the man's bronzed face.
"You—an' I'm a-going to take it right here." He took a step toward her; she turned to run but with one bound he was at her side, caught her in his arms and fairly smothered her with kisses.