There were three kids, he continued, James, the oldest, seven years, and two girls, Mary, five, and Minnie, the baby, two. "The boys ain't a-limiting you in the cost, so please get anything else you and Mrs. Barrington thinks would please the kids and let me know the cost and I'll charge it up to the boys' pay accounts. "Also Bill Gibson wants that Mrs. Barrington should pick out what he says is to be a 'watermelon-pink' sweater for Mrs. Miller's kid sister, Nancy. Bill says Nancy is just about Mrs. Barrington's size, and what'd fit her will fit Nancy all right. "Bill he says he reckons Mrs. B. will savvy what a watermelon-pink sweater is, which is more than any of us do." Three days before Christmas Bill Gibson set forth for the railroad, twenty-five miles away, to bring back the expected Christmas stuff. There was two feet of snow on the ground and the roads were impassable for wheels; so Bill took with him two pack animals, a horse and a mule. He figured he would be one day going and one coming and that on Christmas eve, after marking and arranging all the presents, some one would ride down to the cabin and leave the whole business on the porch of the widow's cabin where she would be sure to find it early Christmas morning. At the railroad Gibson found the trains all tied up with snow to the west, and the packages had not arrived. "Hm, shucks," was his terse comment. "Now wouldn't it jist be hell if the plunder didn't come in time for them kids to have their Christmas tree?" But late that night a train came through which brought the package he had come for. By unpacking the stuff from the box in which they were shipped Gibson managed to get everything in the two kyacks carried by the mule while upon the horse he packed a load of provisions for the camp. [Illustration: "_Gibson managed to get everything in the two Kyacks carried by the mule_"] Barrington and his wife had added liberally to the list of toys and, knowing well the conditions at the sheep ranch, had marked or tagged each article with the name of the child for which it was intended. Even Mrs. Miller had been remembered generously. The sweater was there, packed carefully in a fancy box. Bill loosed the ribbon that fastened it and slipped a card into the box on which he had laboriously written, "To Miss Nancy, from her true friend, Bill." But the storm broke out again and it was long after noon the next day before he dared start, for the wind blew great guns and the air was filled with icy particles that no one could face. Leading the pack horse with the mule "tailed up" to him, Gibson started for home, but made poor progress through the drifted snow. It was almost two o'clock the next morning when he passed the letterbox at the trail to the Widow Miller's place. The moon had gone down behind the trees to the west and it was quite dark, but here the wind had swept the ground bare of snow, and his progress with his rather jaded animals was much better.