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In the shadow and the half light of the fire stood a man, His head and shoulders white with snow, which still Was falling in big silent flakes. "May I come in?" he asked. "Of course," said Hjalsen, And made way, and drew another heavy chair up to the fire. He watched the stranger in his slow approch. This was No common man, for first of all, Bernard had never growled, And now he walked beside him as beside A new found friend. The man was tall, But not as tall as he himself, and dressed In toil worn clothes, though warm, with heavy cap And gloves, which he drew off. His hair was reddish gold And over long, and he was bearded, and his eyes Were very blue, and had about them that which Hjalsen knew He'd never seen in other eyes. His voice was soft And mellow, and he spoke with ease. "I know, my friend, you wonder who I am, And why I should be here at such a time. I'm only a sheepherder, who keeps flocks Here in the valleys close around you, moving as The forage bids. I have come up because, Of the belated flocks which we took down, a few Have strayed, due to our haste, and missing some of them Upon the lower slopes, I've come, though late, in hopes That they, seeking some shelter, might have lived In spite of storm." He smiled, a smile As quiet as his voice. "A true keeper of sheep, you know," He said, "Finds his heart turning more upon The last lost member of his flock than all the rest."
— Walter Van Tilburg Clark from "Christmas Comes to Hjalsen" 32 pages with 9 wood engravings by John Balkwill
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