714 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Dec. 7, 1912 
SNOW BEGAN TO COME EARLY UP IN THE MOUNTAINS. 
“Yes,” I replied; "I know that this timber 
is yours, and that it is posted. You know me 
well enough to know that I am informed about 
all that, but Mr. Hannibel, I want to buy this 
tree, and I wonder that you haven't got my letter 
before this, saying that unless I heard from you 
to the contrary I would consider that you were 
willing that I should come in here and take one 
of these for a Christmas tree and pay you two 
dollars for it.” 
“Well, I ain’t had any such letter and I ain't 
any too sure that you ever sent me one.” 
“You never caught me in a lie yet, did you?” 
I asked jocularly. 
“I never caught you in a lie before," said 
he emphasizing the “before.” That did not seem 
to call for any reply, so I kept still. 
“What ’re you going to do with this tree?” 
he asked. 
“It doesn’t look as if it were up to me to 
say under the circumstances. I had expected to 
take it down to the village and give it to two 
kids I know there for a Christmas tree.” 
“Humph! Do you mean to say that you 
were going to drag that sixteen-foot hemlock 
clear over the hill and down to the village. It 
would make a nice Christmas tree by the time 
you got it there—if you ever did, wouldn’t it?” 
The tree did look more than eight and a 
half feet long now that it lay on the ground; 
that’s a fact. But sixteen feet—never! 
“That isn’t within five feet of sixteen,” said I. 
A grim smile overspread the features of Mr. 
Hannibel. ‘‘Anything the matter with your 
eyes?” he asked as he drew out a folding two- 
foot rule. 
“Not so you’d notice it,” said I. “I’ll bet 
you a dollar that tree won’t measure twelve feet 
long.” 
“You’re inchin’ along,” said he, “but I’ll just 
take your bet,” and he pulled out a silver dollar 
and laid it on the stump of the fallen tree. I 
covered it with a paper dollar. 
He had not laid his rule on the tree twice 
before I saw that I had lost, and I told him to 
take the money, which he did without a word. 
"Now,” said he, “seems to me you said some¬ 
thing about a letter saying you were going to 
give me two- dollars for a tree about like this 
one.” 
“That was the price mentioned, I believe. 
Shall I pay you now?” 
“Can’t pay me any sooner. I cal'late to sell 
my lumber always for spot cash—right on the 
stump.” 
So I put two dollars more on the stump and 
thanked my lucky stars that I had happened to 
have a little money with me. 
“Now, who’s your tree for?” he asked. 
I told him. 
"Brother o’ mine,” said he, referring to the 
storekeeper. “Come on and we'll carry it over 
the hill now.” 
So after cutting about six feet off from the 
heavy end, we got hold of the rest and started. 
Hannibel was right. That tree would have 
been no Christmas tree by the time I would 
have got it in its original condition over to its 
destination. It would have been an Easter tree 
more likely. 
It was a hard tug up to the top of the hill, 
and we both breathed much easier when we 
reached the point where the snow-clad village 
lay below us. I will give the farmer credit for 
carrying more than his share of the load every 
foot of the way. 
The sun came out as we were dropping over 
a ledge down into a long stretch of pasture, and 
we both sat down on an exposed piece of dry 
stone and I offered a cigar. 
The cigar was accepted, and while we lin¬ 
gered a little to rest and smoke, I said: “Mr. 
Hannibel, if this is a joke it is on me. If you 
regard it as a serious matter, well, it is on me 
just the same. I know I had no right taking 
that tree, but I’ve had my eye on it for a long 
time, thinking what a perfect little Christmas tree 
the top would make, and when I found that your 
brother’s youngsters wanted a tree, I couldn’t re¬ 
sist taking this one. Of course I never sent you 
any letter, but to be honest about it I would of 
course have told you about it and paid for the 
tree.” 
“Well, I ain’t kicking any over my bargain,” 
said he. "I ain’t sayin’ that that’s just the right 
way to go about buyin’ a man’s property, but 
under the circumstances and knowin’ you as I 
do, I know you are honest about it. If it was 
some folks, I’d have chucked ’em right over the 
fence—body, boots and breeches.” 
While this was not exactly complimentary, 
and while it did not exactly whitewash me, still 
it was letting me out of my misdeed as well as 
I could expect to get out, and I decided to let 
it go at that. 
“Come over to my shanty some day,” I said, 
“and I’ll set you up to as good a dinner as you 
ever ate. I’d like to visit with you and talk over 
things about the woods. You’ve got the prettiest 
piece of timber land around here.” 
Hannibel was a bachelor as I knew, and I 
expected him to accept my invitation, nor was I 
disappointed. 
“I’ll come some day. I've got the best piece 
of timber around, as you say, and that ain’t all 
I’ve got. I’ve got the best foxhound in these 
parts, and when this snow gets settled a little 
so the dog can run a fox, I’ll come over with 
my gun some morning and we’ll just go out and 
get a fox before dinner, and then I’ll come in 
and see if you’re as good at cookin’ as you are 
at guessin’ the height of a tree.” 
To Old Pal : Send Forest and Stream 
to your bunkie for Christmas. He will think of 
you every week in the year—and every thought 
will be one of pleasure and gratitude. Three 
dollars won't go further. 
