"Dere's been seven kids oop dere," said Nels at last, glancing up as it
for corroboration.
"Yes, seven," agreed Charlie.
"Say, do ve need Seigert's team very pad?"
"Well, now that depends," said Charlie. "Why not?"
"Nothin', only Ay vas tankin' ve might tak' some a das veat we vas
goin' to sell and--and--"
"Yep, what?"
"And dumb it on Roney's granary floor to-night after dere been asleeb."
Charlie stared at his companion for a moment in silence. Then he rose,
and, approaching Nels, examined his partner's face with solemn scrutiny.
"By the great horn spoon," he announced, finally, "you've got a head on
you like a balloon, my boy! Keep on gettin' ideas like that, and you'll
land in Congress or the poor-farm before many years!"
Then, abandoning his pretense of gravity, he slapped the other on the
back.
"Why didn't I think of that? It's the best yet. Seigert's team? Oh,
hang Seigert's team. We don't need it. We'll have a little merry
Christmas out of this yet. Only they mustn't know where it came from.
I'll write a note and stick it under the door, 'You'll find some merry
wheat--'No, that ain't it. 'You'll find some wheat in the granary to
give the kids a merry Christmas with,' signed, 'Santa Claus.'"
He wrote out the message in the air with a pointing forefinger. He had
entered into the spirit of the thing eagerly.
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