decision lay, by right of his foster-parenthood of little Skeezucks,
"only I don't see so plain where we're goin' to git the tree. We're
burnin' all the biggest brush around Borealis, and there ain't a
genuine Christmas-tree in forty miles."

The truth of this observation fell like a dampened blanket on all the
company.

"That's so," said Webber. "That's just the luck!"

"There's a bunch of willers and alders by the spring," suggested a
hopeful person.

"You pore, pitiful cuss," said Field. "You couldn't have seen no
Christmas-tree in all your infancy."

"If only I had the time," drawled Jim, "I'd go across to the Pinyon
mountains and git a tree. Perhaps I can do that yet."

"If you'd do that, Jim, that would be the biggest present of the lot,"
said Webber. "You wouldn't have to do nuthin' more."'

"Wal, I'm goin' to make a Noah's ark full of animals, anyway," said
Jim. "Also a few cars and boats and a big tin horn--if only I've got
the activity."

"But we'll reckon on you for the tree," insisted the blacksmith.
"Then, of course, we want a great big Christmas dinner."

"What are you goin' to do fer a turkey?" inquired Field.