Well, we were hilariously planning what Mrs. O’Shaughnessy called a “widdy” Christmas and getting supper, when a great stamping-off of snow proclaimed a newcomer.  It was Gavotte, and we were powerfully glad to see him because the hired man was going to a dance and we knew Gavotte would contrive some unusual amusement.  He had heard that Clyde was going to have a deer-drive, and didn’t know that he had gone, so he had come down to join the hunt just for the fun, and was very much disappointed to find there was going to be no hunt.  After supper, however, his good humor returned and he told us story after story of big hunts he had had in Canada.  He worked up his own enthusiasm as well as ours, and at last proposed that we have a drive of our own for a Christmas “joy.”  He said he would take a station and do the shooting if one of us would do the driving.  So right now I reckon I had better tell you how it is done.

There are many little parks in the mountains where the deer can feed, although now most places are so deep in snow that they can’t walk in it.  For that reason they have trails to water and to the different feeding-grounds, and they can’t get through the snow except along these paths.  You see how easy it would be for a man hidden on the trail to get one of the beautiful creatures if some one coming from another direction startled them so that they came along that particular path.

So they made their plans.  Mrs. O’Shaughnessy elected herself driver.  Two miles away is a huge mountain called Phillipeco, and deer were said to be plentiful up there.  At one time there had been a sawmill on the mountain, and there were a number of deserted cabins in which we could make ourselves comfortable.  So it was planned that we go up the next morning, stay all night, have the hunt the following morning, and then come home with our game.

Well, we were all astir early the next morning and soon grain, bedding, and chuck-box were in the wagon.  Then Mrs. Louderer, the kinder, and myself piled in; Mrs. O’Shaughnessy bestrode Chief, Gavotte stalked on ahead to pick our way, and we were off.

It was a long, tedious climb, and I wished over and over that I had stayed at home; but it was altogether on Baby’s account.  I was so afraid that he would suffer, but he kept warm as toast.  The day was beautiful, and the views many times repaid us for any hardship we had suffered.  It was three o’clock before we reached the old mill camp.  Soon we had a roaring fire, and Gavotte made the horses comfortable in one of the cabins.  They were bedded in soft, dry sawdust, and were quite as well off as if they had been in their own stalls.  Then some rough planks were laid on blocks, and we had our first meal since breakfast.  We called it supper, and we had potatoes roasted in the embers, Mrs. Louderer’s wurst, which she had been calmly carrying around on her arm like a hoop and which was delicious with the bread that Gavotte toasted on long sticks; we