Strange to say, many of the folks were taking the same road—following a short distance behind the Shackleys. The sound of their voices and the twinkling lights in the rear at any other time would have aroused Si Quinn’s curiosity, at least. Now he was too much occupied with the thought of his own failures and the future which loomed before him more dismal than ever. Lost in revery he failed to notice when the oxen stopped at the footpath leading up to his cabin, until the blacksmith’s voice roused him. “Here you air, Si! Jest let me ketch a holt of you. Middlin’ dampish, ain’t hit? I ’low Abner better go ’long with the lantern. I’ll wait fer him.” Had the two looked around as they slowly climbed the slope, they would have seen the shadowy company following at a little distance. “I’ll stop and start a fire for you,” offered Abner, with a great feeling of pity for the old man who leaned heavily on his strong, young arm. “If you haven’t been home for a week it ain’t a fit place for you to go into.” “Thar won’t be a live coal,” panted the schoolmaster. “I’ve matches in my pocket, but it’ll take a considerable spell to drive out the cold and damp.” The boy eyed the dim outlines of the cabin with misgiving. It looked gloomy and unhomelike as possible. Once at the door—guiltless of fastenings—Si Quinn drew a long, reluctant sigh. His hand on the latch, Abner heard sounds of feet close by. He looked around; there were strange, moving shadows on the path. He was not slow-witted; it was Christmas Eve and a suspicion of something flashed across his mind. One glimpse of the already lighted room and he turned, helped the old man in, and hastily closed the door just as there came a tugging at his coat. A score of Goose Creek folks were behind him. “Oh, what did he say?” whispered Talitha excitedly. “He hadn’t got that far,” grinned Abner in sudden comprehension. “Let’s give three cheers for the schoolmaster,” suggested Martin. Such a demonstration was new to the mountain people who had not been to Bentville, but they listened with appreciation and joined in most lustily when it ended with: “A Merry Christmas! Wish You a Merry Christmas!” And then the company quietly dispersed. “We made a power o’ racket,” said Dan Gooch as later he entered his own cabin. “But I’d like ter hev seen how the old man looked when he war fairly inside. We did a toler’ble job, chinkin’ up them crannies. You’d never hev suspected what the place war like,” he chuckled.