That would be a Marlin bolt rifle in 22 WMR, a 980 DL from 1967.
I had been paying the local sporting goods store a few bucks at a time from grass cutting and then snow shoveling and found it fully paid off and under my Christmas tree that year - apparently dad talked mom into rewarding me for the effort I had put in thus far and paid the remainder of the tab, about half as I recall. I was 13 years old and lived in a small enough town that a 13 year old boy buying a 22 on time from the local dealer (who knew my dad, of course) was not unusual, alarming, or noteworthy (sure miss those days) . Accounted for lots of squirrels, ground hogs, crows and tin cans and though the price of 22 mags has risen in years past to where I can shoot a 22 hornet that I can reload for cheaper than buying the rimfire, I still take it out of the safe occasionally and enjoy the memories attached and remember the man years gone now that helped make them possible. Every man should have such memories of his childhood . . . .