CHAPTER II

THE DINNER AT HEART'S DESIRE

_This continuing the Relation of Curly, the Can of Oysters, and the
Girl from Kansas; and Introducing Others_

There were no stockings hung up in Heart's Desire that Christmas Eve,
for all the population was adult, male, and stern of habit. The great
moon flooded the street with splendor. Afar there came voices of
rioting. There were some adherents to the traditions of the South in
regard to firecrackers at Yuletide, albeit the six-shooter furnished
the only firecracker obtainable. Yet upon that night the very shots
seemed cheerful, not ominous, as was usually the case upon that long
and crooked street, which had seen duels, affairs, affrays,--even riots
of mounted men in the days when the desperadoes of the range came
riding into town now and again for love of danger, or for lack of
_aguardiente_. It was so very white and solemn and content,--this
street of Heart's Desire on Christmas Eve. Far across the _arroyo_,
as Curly had said, there gleamed red the double windows of the cabin
which had been preempted by the man from Leavenworth. To-night the man
from Leavenworth sat with bowed head and beard upon his bosom.

Christmas Day dawned, brilliant, glorious. There was not a Christmas
tree in all Heart's Desire. There was not a child within two hundred
miles who had ever seen a Christmas tree. There was not a woman in all