with her the good things to the poor exiles, the sheep-herders. I liked
the plan and was glad to agree, but I never dreamed I should have so
lovely a time. When the queer old wooden clock announced two we went to
bed.

I left quite early the next morning with my head full of Christmas
plans. You may not know, but cattle-men and sheep-men cordially hate
each other. Mr. Stewart is a cattle-man, and so I didn't mention my
Christmas plans to him. I saved all the butter I could spare for the
sheep-herders; they never have any. That and some jars of gooseberry
jelly was all I could give them. I cooked plenty for the people here,
and two days before Christmas I had a chance to go down to Mrs.
Louderer's in a buggy, so we went. We found her up to her ears in
cooking, and such sights and smells I could never describe. She was so
glad I came early, for she needed help. I never worked so hard in my
life or had a pleasanter time.

Mrs. Louderer had sent a man out several days before to find out how
many camps there were and where they were located. There were twelve
camps and that means twenty-four men. We roasted six geese, boiled
three small hams and three hens. We had besides several meat-loaves and
links of sausage. We had twelve large loaves of the _best_ rye bread; a
small tub of doughnuts; twelve coffee-cakes, more to be called
fruit-cakes, and also a quantity of little cakes with seeds, nuts, and
fruit in them,--so pretty to look at and _so_ good to taste. These had
a thick coat of icing, some brown, some pink, some white. I had
thirteen pounds of butter and six pint jars of jelly, so we melted the
jelly and poured it into twelve glasses.

The plan was, to start real early Christmas Eve morning, make our