"I know what day it is.

I've kept count.

See here!" He pointed to a hickory tree.

Clear and smooth was gash after gash, cut in the bark, one above another, by Sol with his stout knife.
"Every one o' them is a day," said Shif'less Sol, "an' to-day is the 24th of December.

Now, what is to-morrow, Paul Cotter ?" "The 25th of December--Christmas Day." "An' oughtn't we to hev Christmas, too, even ef we are up here in the wild woods, all by ourselves?
Don't this look like Christmas ?" Paul looked around at the glittering and magnificent expanse of white wilderness.