We're all here, sound an' well, an' though we've been through a power o' dangers, we ain't sufferin' now." "That's so," said Paul.
"Then we'll tell the boys right now." They walked back to the cabin, and Shif'less Sol announced the date to the others, who agreed at once that Christmas should be celebrated by them there on their little island in the wilderness.

All were touched in a way by the solemnity of the event, and they began to feel how strong was the tie that united them.
"We must have a big Christmas dinner," said Jim Hart, "an' I'll cook it." "An' I'll help you," said Shif'less Sol.
"And I," added Paul.
That evening they sat around the fire, talking in the mellow glow; but their talk was not of the Indians, nor of the chase, nor of themselves, but of those behind at Wareville.

Paul shut his eyes and looked dreamily into the fire.

He could see the people at the settlement getting ready for the great festival, preparing little gifts, and the children crawling reluctantly into their homemade trundle, or box beds.

He felt at that moment a deep kindness toward all things.
They covered up the ashes after a while, and then, in the darkness, every one in his turn laid out some little gift for the others--a clasp knife, a powderhorn, a prized deerskin, or something else that counted among his possessions.