WE ENTERTAINED STRANGERS

IT was nearing Christmas — the first one for Wallie and me together in our tiny home on our wheat ranch.

Our hearts were happy and full of the lovely season's cheer.

"Peace on Earth, Good will to men."

There was to be a neighborhood Christmas program and tree at the little Methodist church on tile hill, and the neighbors were going to decorate the church for the occasion. Wallie and I went too, driving our little sorrel driving team to the buggy. How happy we were as we drove over the prairie!

Some neighbor had brought the evergreens, and we all got down to the business of getting the boughs into wreaths and placed on the walls, around the windows, and everywhere our fancy pleased. We also decorated a huge Christmas tree that reached almost to the ceiling.

Soon after we reached the church, snow began to fall. It be deeper and deeper. We finished our work of love, sang a few carols and decided to go home, as all the men had chores to do.

But before we had finished, we saw six strange men go past the church, fighting their way through the whirling snow and the drifts on the ground.

We all knew where they were going. The railroad company (now the S. P. & S.) was building a road from Lyle to Goldendale, along the Klickitat River, and up the Swale Canyon. To reach the camp in the Swale, these men would have to go through our place.

Wallie and I started home driving through the snow. By that time it was a real storm, and a cold east wind was coming up. We were in for a bad night.

We kept a watch for the strangers who were walking ahead of us.

At last we espied them. They had gone into a vacant house along the road to get out of the storm for the night.

There was an old stove in the house, but there was no stove pipe. But the poor cold, hungry men were gathering what hoards and pieces of wood they could find, to build a fire in the pipeless stove. They had sent their blankets to camp by the wagon that hauled supplies, so that they had only one light cot blanket among them.

Again it was the Christmas season, and our hearts were full of love. A little of that will toward men reached out to those weary travelers.

Wallie and I had talked the matter over as we drove along and knew just what we were going to do. We stopped and invited those men to spend the night with us, and Wallie told them to follow our tracks in the freshly fallen snow

We reached our tiny home, and Wallie built a fire in the box stove in the dining room. Soon the room was cozy and warm, and lights from the coal oil lamps shed a soft light through the windows and onto the snow.

While Wallie did the chores at the barn, milked the cows and fed the stock, I was busy preparing supper for our guests.

The travelers reached the house and came in, stretched cold and tired legs to the comfortable heat, rubbing their numbed fingers over the stove. Wallie came in from the barn and we all sat down to supper eight of us, where there were usually only two. And how those men ate! They had walked sixteen miles that day, with nothing to eat. Some of them were fairly well educated men, who had left good jobs in the East, to try their fortunes in the West, railroading. Some were the ordinary sort, whom one would expect to find in a camp of this kind.

After the men were fed and thoroughly warmed, Wallie took the lantern and what extra bedding we had, and escoted them to the barn. They burrowed down into the sweet smelling hay, and were soon fast asleep, the only requirement being that they not smoke in the haymow.

The next morning after a hearty farm breakfast, they each in upon giving me money that is if they had money. Some gave me a quarter, and some had nothing to give. But they were all welcome.

That cold east wind had frozen a hard crust on the snow, and the men started off across the deep canyon crunching through the frozen drifts. But they had only about two or three miles more to go to reach camp, and find food and their blankets.

These were our first Christmas guests. We had many more during our lives together, but I sure we never fed a guest quite so grateful, and sure also that turkey and cranberries of the later Christmases never tasted half so good as those fried potatoes and meat in our little dining room. on earth, good will to men!