Now I will gladly have done with wicked spirits and with fighting and bloodshed. It was not from choice that I told of the Awgwas and their allies, and of their great battle with the immortals. They were part of this history, and could not be avoided. Those were happy days for Claus when he carried his accumulation of toys to the children who had awaited them so long. During his imprisonment in the Valley he had been so industrious that all his shelves were filled with playthings, and after quickly supplying the little ones living near by he saw he must now extend his travels to wider fields. Remembering the time when he had journeyed with Ak through all the world, he know children were everywhere, and he longed to make as many as possible happy with his gifts. So he loaded a great sack with all kinds of toys, slung it upon his back that he might carry it more easily, and started off on a longer trip than he had yet undertaken. Wherever he showed his merry face, in hamlet or in farmhouse, he received a cordial welcome, for his fame had spread into far lands. At each village the children swarmed about him, following his footsteps wherever he went; and the women thanked him gratefully for the joy he brought their little ones; and the men looked upon him curiously that he should devote his time to such a queer occupation as toy-making. But every one smiled on him and gave him kindly words, and Claus felt amply repaid for his long journey. When the sack was empty he went back again to the Laughing Valley and once more filled it to the brim. This time he followed another road, into a different part of the country, and carried happiness to many children who never before had owned a toy or guessed that such a delightful plaything existed. After a third journey, so far away that Claus was many days walking the distance, the store of toys became exhausted and without delay he set about making a fresh supply. From seeing so many children and studying their tastes he had acquired several new ideas about toys.
The dollies were, he had found, the most delightful of all playthings for babies and little girls, and often those who could not say “dolly” would call for a “doll” in their sweet baby talk. So Claus resolved to make many dolls, of all sizes, and to dress them in bright-colored clothing. The older boys—and even some of the girls—loved the images of animals, so he still made cats and elephants and horses. And many of the little fellows had musical natures, and longed for drums and cymbals and whistles and horns. So he made a number of toy drums, with tiny sticks to beat them with; and he made whistles from the willow trees, and horns from the bog-reeds, and cymbals from bits of beaten metal. All this kept him busily at work, and before he realized it the winter season came, with deeper snows than usual, and he knew he could not leave the Valley with his heavy pack. Moreover, the next trip would take him farther from home than every before, and Jack Frost was mischievous enough to nip his nose and ears if he undertook the long journey while the Frost King reigned. The Frost King was Jack’s father and never reproved him for his pranks. So Claus remained at his work-bench; but he whistled and sang as merrily as ever, for he would allow no disappointment to sour his temper or make him unhappy. One bright morning he looked from his window and saw two of the deer he had known in the Forest walking toward his house. Claus was surprised; not that the friendly deer should visit him, but that they walked on the surface of the snow as easily as if it were solid ground, notwithstanding the fact that throughout the Valley the snow lay many feet deep. He had walked out of his house a day or two before and had sunk to his armpits in a drift. So when the deer came near he opened the door and called to them, “Good morning, Flossie! Tell me how you are able to walk on the snow so easily.”
“It is frozen hard,” answered Flossie.
“The Frost King has breathed on it,” said Glossie, coming up, “and the surface is now as solid as ice.”
“Perhaps,” remarked Claus, thoughtfully, “I might now carry my pack of toys to the children.”
“Is it a long journey?” asked Flossie.
“Yes; it will take me many days, for the pack is heavy,” answered Claus.
“Then the snow would melt before you could get back,” said the deer. “You must wait until spring, Claus.”
Claus sighed. “Had I your fleet feet,” said he, “I could make the journey in a day.”
“But you have not,” returned Glossie, looking at his own slender legs with pride.
“Perhaps I could ride upon your back,” Claus ventured to remark, after a pause.
“Oh no; our backs are not strong enough to bear your weight,” said Flossie, decidedly. “But if you had a sledge, and could harness us to it, we might draw you easily, and your pack as well.”
“I’ll make a sledge!” exclaimed Claus. “Will you agree to draw me if I do?”
“Well,” replied Flossie, “we must first go and ask the Knooks, who are our guardians, for permission; but if they consent, and you can make a sledge and harness, we will gladly assist you.”
“Then go at once!” cried Claus, eagerly. “I am sure the friendly Knooks will give their consent, and by the time you are back I shall be ready to harness you to my sledge.”
Flossie and Glossie, being deer of much intelligence, had long wished to see the great world, so they gladly ran over the frozen snow to ask the Knooks if they might carry Claus on his journey. Meantime the toy-maker hurriedly began the construction of a sledge, using material from his wood-pile. He made two long runners that turned upward at the front ends, and across these nailed short boards, to make a platform. It was soon completed, but was as crude in appearance as it is possible for a sledge to be. The harness was more difficult to prepare, but Claus twisted strong cords together and knotted them so they would fit around the necks of the deer, in the shape of a collar. From these ran other cords to fasten the deer to the front of the sledge. Before the work was completed Glossie and Flossie were back from the Forest, having been granted permission by Will Knook to make the journey with Claus provided they would to Burzee by daybreak the next morning. “That is not a very long time,” said Flossie; “but we are swift and strong, and if we get started by this evening we can travel many miles during the night.”
Claus decided to make the attempt, so he hurried on his preparations as fast as possible. After a time he fastened the collars around the necks of his steeds and harnessed them to his rude sledge. Then he placed a stool on the little platform, to serve as a seat, and filled a sack with his prettiest toys. “How do you intend to guide us?” asked Glossie. “We have never been out of the Forest before, except to visit your house, so we shall not know the way.”
Claus thought about that for a moment. Then he brought more cords and fastened two of them to the spreading antlers of each deer, one on the right and the other on the left. “Those will be my reins,” said Claus, “and when I pull them to the right or to the left you must go in that direction. If I do not pull the reins at all you may go straight ahead.”
“Very well,” answered Glossie and Flossie; and then they asked: “Are you ready?” Claus seated himself upon the stool, placed the sack of toys at his feet, and then gathered up the reins.
“All ready!” he shouted; “away we go!”
The deer leaned forward, lifted their slender limbs, and the next moment away flew the sledge over the frozen snow. The swiftness of the motion surprised Claus, for in a few strides they were across the Valley and gliding over the broad plain beyond. The day had melted into evening by the time they started; for, swiftly as Claus had worked, many hours had been consumed in making his preparations. But the moon shone brightly to light their way, and Claus soon decided it was just as pleasant to travel by night as by day. The deer liked it better; for, although they wished to see something of the world, they were timid about meeting men, and now all the dwellers in the towns and farmhouses were sound asleep and could not see them. Away and away they sped, on and on over the hills and through the valleys and across the plains until they reached a village where Claus had never been before. Here he called on them to stop, and they immediately obeyed. But a new difficulty now presented itself, for the people had locked their doors when they went to bed, and Claus found he could not enter the houses to leave his toys. “I am afraid, my friends, we have made our journey for nothing,” said he, “for I shall be obliged to carry my playthings back home again without giving them to the children of this village.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Flossie.
“The doors are locked,” answered Claus, “and I can not get in.”
Glossie looked around at the houses. The snow was quite deep in that village, and just before them was a roof only a few feet above the sledge. A broad chimney, which seemed to Glossie big enough to admit Claus, was at the peak of the roof. “Why don’t you climb down that chimney?” asked Glossie.
Claus looked at it. “That would be easy enough if I were on top of the roof,” he answered.
“Then hold fast and we will take you there,” said the deer, and they gave one bound to the roof and landed beside the big chimney.
“Good!” cried Claus, well pleased, and he slung the pack of toys over his shoulder and got into the chimney. There was plenty of soot on the bricks, but he did not mind that, and by placing his hands and knees against the sides he crept downward until he had reached the fireplace. Leaping lightly over the smoldering coals he found himself in a large sitting-room, where a dim light was burning. From this room two doorways led into smaller chambers. In one a woman lay asleep, with a baby beside her in a crib. Claus laughed, but he did not laugh aloud for fear of waking the baby. Then he slipped a big doll from his pack and laid it in the crib. The little one smiled, as if it dreamed of the pretty plaything it was to find on the morrow, and Claus crept softly from the room and entered at the other doorway. Here were two boys, fast asleep with their arms around each other’s neck. Claus gazed at them lovingly a moment and then placed upon the bed a drum, two horns and a wooden elephant. He did not linger, now that his work in this house was done, but climbed the chimney again and seated himself on his sledge. “Can you find another chimney?” he asked the reindeer.
“Easily enough,” replied Glossie and Flossie.
Down to the edge of the roof they raced, and then, without pausing, leaped through the air to the top of the next building, where a huge, old-fashioned chimney stood. “Don’t be so long, this time,” called Flossie, “or we shall never get back to the Forest by daybreak.” Claus made a trip down this chimney also and found five children sleeping in the house, all of whom were quickly supplied with toys. When he returned the deer sprang to the next roof, but on descending the chimney Claus found no children there at all. That was not often the case in this village, however, so he lost less time than you might suppose in visiting the dreary homes where there were no little ones. When he had climbed down the chimneys of all the houses in that village, and had left a toy for every sleeping child, Claus found that his great sack was not yet half emptied. “Onward, friends!” he called to the deer; “we must seek another village.” So away they dashed, although it was long past midnight, and in a surprisingly short time they came to a large city, the largest Claus had ever visited since he began to make toys. But, nothing daunted by the throng of houses, he set to work at once and his beautiful steeds carried him rapidly from one roof to another, only the highest being beyond the leaps of the agile deer. At last the supply of toys was exhausted and Claus seated himself in the sledge, with the empty sack at his feet, and turned the heads of Glossie and Flossie toward home.
Presently Flossie asked, “What is that gray streak in the sky?”
“It is the coming dawn of day,” answered Claus, surprised to find that it was so late.
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Glossie; “then we shall not be home by daybreak, and the Knooks will punish us and never let us come again.”
“We must race for the Laughing Valley and make our best speed,” returned Flossie; “so hold fast, friend Claus!” Claus held fast and the next moment was flying so swiftly over the snow that he could not see the trees as they whirled past. Up hill and down dale, swift as an arrow shot from a bow they dashed, and Claus shut his eyes to keep the wind out of them and left the deer to find their own way. It seemed to him they were plunging through space, but he was not at all afraid. The Knooks were severe masters, and must be obeyed at all hazards, and the gray streak in the sky was growing brighter every moment. Finally the sledge came to a sudden stop and Claus, who was taken unawares, tumbled from his seat into a snowdrift. As he picked himself up he heard the deer crying:
“Quick, friend, quick! Cut away our harness!” He drew his knife and rapidly severed the cords, and then he wiped the moisture from his eyes and looked around him. The sledge had come to a stop in the Laughing Valley, only a few feet, he found, from his own door. In the East the day was breaking, and turning to the edge of Burzee he saw Glossie and Flossie just disappearing in the Forest. Claus thought that none of the children would ever know where the toys came from which they found by their bedsides when they wakened the following morning. But kindly deeds are sure to bring fame, and fame has many wings to carry its tidings into far lands; so for miles and miles in every direction people were talking of Claus and his wonderful gifts to children. The sweet generousness of his work caused a few selfish folk to sneer, but even these were forced to admit their respect for a man so gentle-natured that he loved to devote his life to pleasing the helpless little ones of his race. Therefore the inhabitants of every city and village had been eagerly watching the coming of Claus, and remarkable stories of his beautiful playthings were told the children to keep them patient and contented. When, on the morning following the first trip of Claus with his deer, the little ones came running to their parents with the pretty toys they had found, and asked from whence they came, they was but one reply to the question. “The good Claus must have been here, my darlings; for his are the only toys in all the world!”
“But how did he get in?” asked the children.
At this the fathers shook their heads, being themselves unable to understand how Claus had gained admittance to their homes; but the mothers, watching the glad faces of their dear ones, whispered that the good Claus was no mortal man but assuredly a Saint, and they piously blessed his name for the happiness he had bestowed upon their children. “A Saint,” said one, with bowed head, “has no need to unlock doors if it pleases him to enter our homes.”
And, afterward, when a child was naughty or disobedient, its mother would say, “You must pray to the good Santa Claus for forgiveness. He does not like naughty children, and, unless you repent, he will bring you no more pretty toys.”
But Santa Claus himself would not have approved this speech. He brought toys to the children because they were little and helpless, and because he loved them. He knew that the best of children were sometimes naughty, and that the naughty ones were often good. It is the way with children, the world over, and he would not have changed their natures had he possessed the power to do so. And that is how our Claus became Santa Claus. It is possible for any man, by good deeds, to enshrine himself as a Saint in the hearts of the people. The day that broke as Claus returned from his night ride with Glossie and Flossie brought to him a new trouble. Will Knook, the chief guardian of the deer, came to him, surly and ill-tempered, to complain that he had kept Glossie and Flossie beyond daybreak, in opposition to his orders. “Yet it could not have been very long after daybreak,” said Claus.
“It was one minute after,” answered Will Knook, “and that is as bad as one hour. I shall set the stinging gnats on Glossie and Flossie, and they will thus suffer terribly for their disobedience.”
“Don’t do that!” begged Claus. “It was my fault.” But Will Knook would listen to no excuses, and went away grumbling and growling in his ill-natured way. For this reason Claus entered the Forest to consult Necile about rescuing the good deer from punishment. To his delight he found his old friend, the Master Woodsman, seated in the circle of Nymphs. Ak listened to the story of the night journey to the children and of the great assistance the deer had been to Claus by drawing his sledge over the frozen snow. “I do not wish my friends to be punished if I can save them,” said the toy-maker, when he had finished the relation. “They were only one minute late, and they ran swifter than a bird flies to get home before daybreak.”
Ak stroked his beard thoughtfully a moment, and then sent for the Prince of the Knooks, who rules all his people in Burzee, and also for the Queen of the Fairies and the Prince of the Ryls. When all had assembled Claus told his story again, at Ak’s command, and then the Master addressed the Prince of the Knooks, saying, “The good work that Claus is doing among mankind deserves the support of every honest immortal. Already he is called a Saint in some of the towns, and before long the name of Santa Claus will be lovingly known in every home that is blessed with children. Moreover, he is a son of our Forest, so we owe him our encouragement. You, Ruler of the Knooks, have known him these many years; am I not right in saying he deserves our friendship?”
The Prince, crooked and sour of visage as all Knooks are, looked only upon the dead leaves at his feet and muttered: “You are the Master Woodsman of the World!”
Ak smiled, but continued, in soft tones, “It seems that the deer which are guarded by your people can be of great assistance to Claus, and as they seem willing to draw his sledge I beg that you will permit him to use their services whenever he pleases.”
The Prince did not reply, but tapped the curled point of his sandal with the tip of his spear, as if in thought. Then the Fairy Queen spoke to him in this way, “If you consent to Ak’s request I will see that no harm comes to your deer while they are away from the Forest.”
And the Prince of the Ryls added, “For my part I will allow to every deer that assists Claus the privilege of eating my casa plants, which give strength, and my grawle plants, which give fleetness of foot, and my marbon plants, which give long life.”
And the Queen of the Nymphs said, “The deer which draw the sledge of Claus will be permitted to bathe in the Forest pool of Nares, which will give them sleek coats and wonderful beauty.”
The Prince of the Knooks, hearing these promises, shifted uneasily on his seat, for in his heart he hated to refuse a request of his fellow immortals, although they were asking an unusual favor at his hands, and the Knooks are unaccustomed to granting favors of any kind. Finally he turned to his servants and said, “Call Will Knook.”
When surly Will came and heard the demands of the immortals he protested loudly against granting them. “Deer are deer,” said he, “and nothing but deer. Were they horses it would be right to harness them like horses. But no one harnesses deer because they are free, wild creatures, owing no service of any sort to mankind. It would degrade my deer to labor for Claus, who is only a man in spite of the friendship lavished on him by the immortals.”
“You have heard,” said the Prince to Ak. “There is truth in what Will says.”
“Call Glossie and Flossie,” returned the Master.
The deer were brought to the conference and Ak asked them if they objected to drawing the sledge for Claus. “No, indeed!” replied Glossie; “we enjoyed the trip very much.”
“And we tried to get home by daybreak,” added Flossie, “but were unfortunately a minute too late.”
“A minute lost at daybreak doesn’t matter,” said Ak. “You are forgiven for that delay.”
“Provided it does not happen again,” said the Prince of the Knooks, sternly.
“And will you permit them to make another journey with me?” asked Claus, eagerly. The Prince reflected while he gazed at Will, who was scowling, and at the Master Woodsman, who was smiling.
“Since you all urge me to grant the favor I will permit the deer to go with Claus once every year, on Christmas Eve, provided they always return to the Forest by daybreak. He may select any number he pleases, up to ten, to draw his sledge, and those shall be known among us as Reindeer, to distinguish them from the others. And they shall bathe in the Pool of Nares, and eat the casa and grawle and marbon plants and shall be under the especial protection of the Fairy Queen. And now cease scowling, Will Knook, for my words shall be obeyed!” He hobbled quickly away through the trees, to avoid the thanks of Claus and the approval of the other immortals, and Will, looking as cross as ever, followed him. But Ak was satisfied, knowing that he could rely on the promise of the Prince, however grudgingly given; and Glossie and Flossie ran home, kicking up their heels delightedly at every step.
“When is Christmas Eve?” Claus asked the Master.
“In about ten days,” he replied.
“Then I can not use the deer this year,” said Claus, thoughtfully, “for I shall not have time enough to make my sackful of toys.”
“The shrewd Prince foresaw that,” responded Ak, “and therefore named Christmas Eve as the day you might use the deer, knowing it would cause you to lose an entire year.”
“If I only had the toys the Awgwas stole from me,” said Claus, sadly, “I could easily fill my sack for the children.”
“Where are they?” asked the Master.
“I do not know,” replied Claus, “but the wicked Awgwas probably hid them in the mountains.”
Ak turned to the Fairy Queen. “Can you find them?” he asked.
“I will try,” she replied, brightly. Then Claus went back to the Laughing Valley, to work as hard as he could, and a band of Fairies immediately flew to the mountain that had been haunted by the Awgwas and began a search for the stolen toys. The Fairies, as we well know, possess wonderful powers; but the cunning Awgwas had hidden the toys in a deep cave and covered the opening with rocks, so no one could look in. Therefore all search for the missing playthings proved in vain for several days, and Claus, who sat at home waiting for news from the Fairies, almost despaired of getting the toys before Christmas Eve. He worked hard every moment, but it took considerable time to carve out and to shape each toy and to paint it properly, so that on the morning before Christmas Eve only half of one small shelf above the window was filled with playthings ready for the children. But on this morning the Fairies who were searching in the mountains had a new thought. They joined hands and moved in a straight line through the rocks that formed the mountain, beginning at the topmost peak and working downward, so that no spot could be missed by their bright eyes. And at last they discovered the cave where the toys had been heaped up by the wicked Awgwas. It did not take them long to burst open the mouth of the cave, and then each one seized as many toys as he could carry and they all flew to Claus and laid the treasure before him. The good man was rejoiced to receive, just in the nick of time, such a store of playthings with which to load his sledge, and he sent word to Glossie and Flossie to be ready for the journey at nightfall. With all his other labors he had managed to find time, since the last trip, to repair the harness and to strengthen his sledge, so that when the deer came to him at twilight he had no difficulty in harnessing them.
“We must go in another direction to-night,” he told them, “where we shall find children I have never yet visited. And we must travel fast and work quickly, for my sack is full of toys and running over the brim!” So, just as the moon arose, they dashed out of the Laughing Valley and across the plain and over the hills to the south. The air was sharp and frosty and the starlight touched the snowflakes and made them glitter like countless diamonds. The reindeer leaped onward with strong, steady bounds, and Claus’ heart was so light and merry that he laughed and sang while the wind whistled past his ears:
“With a ho, ho, ho!
And a ha, ha, ha!
And a ho, ho! ha, ha, hee!
Now away we go
O’er the frozen snow,
As merry as we can be!”
Jack Frost heard him and came racing up with his nippers, but when he saw it was Claus he laughed and turned away again. The mother owls heard him as he passed near a wood and stuck their heads out of the hollow places in the tree-trunks; but when they saw who it was they whispered to the owlets nestling near them that it was only Santa Claus carrying toys to the children. It is strange how much those mother owls know. Claus stopped at some of the scattered farmhouses and climbed down the chimneys to leave presents for the babies. Soon after he reached a village and worked merrily for an hour distributing playthings among the sleeping little ones. Then away again he went, signing his joyous carol:
“Now away we go
O’er the gleaming snow,
While the deer run swift and free!
For to girls and boys
We carry the toys
That will fill their hearts with glee!”
The deer liked the sound of his deep bass voice and kept time to the song with their hoof beats on the hard snow; but soon they stopped at another chimney and Santa Claus, with sparkling eyes and face brushed red by the wind, climbed down its smoky sides and left a present for every child the house contained. It was a merry, happy night. Swiftly the deer ran, and busily their driver worked to scatter his gifts among the sleeping children. But the sack was empty at last, and the sledge headed homeward; and now again the race with daybreak began. Glossie and Flossie had no mind to be rebuked a second time for tardiness, so they fled with a swiftness that enabled them to pass the gale on which the Frost King rode, and soon brought them to the Laughing Valley. It is true when Claus released his steeds from their harness the eastern sky was streaked with gray, but Glossie and Flossie were deep in the Forest before day fairly broke. Claus was so wearied with his night’s work that he threw himself upon his bed and fell into a deep slumber, and while he slept the Christmas sun appeared in the sky and shone upon hundreds of happy homes where the sound of childish laughter proclaimed that Santa Claus had made them a visit. God bless him! It was his first Christmas Eve, and for hundreds of years since then he has nobly fulfilled his mission to bring happiness to the hearts of little children. When you remember that no child, until Santa Claus began his travels, had ever known the pleasure of possessing a toy, you will understand how joy crept into the homes of those who had been favored with a visit from the good man, and how they talked of him day by day in loving tones and were honestly grateful for his kindly deeds. It is true that great warriors and mighty kings and clever scholars of that day were often spoken of by the people; but no one of them was so greatly beloved as Santa Claus, because none other was so unselfish as to devote himself to making others happy. For a generous deed lives longer than a great battle or a king’s decree of a scholar’s essay, because it spreads and leaves its mark on all nature and endures through many generations. The bargain made with the Knook Prince changed the plans of Claus for all future time; for, being able to use the reindeer on but one night of each year, he decided to devote all the other days to the manufacture of playthings, and on Christmas Eve to carry them to the children of the world. But a year’s work would, he knew, result in a vast accumulation of toys, so he resolved to build a new sledge that would be larger and stronger and better-fitted for swift travel than the old and clumsy one. His first act was to visit the Gnome King, with whom he made a bargain to exchange three drums, a trumpet and two dolls for a pair of fine steel runners, curled beautifully at the ends. For the Gnome King had children of his own, who, living in the hollows under the earth, in mines and caverns, needed something to amuse them. In three days the steel runners were ready, and when Claus brought the playthings to the Gnome King, his Majesty was so greatly pleased with them that he presented Claus with a string of sweet-toned sleigh-bells, in addition to the runners. “These will please Glossie and Flossie,” said Claus, as he jingled the bells and listened to their merry sound. “But I should have two strings of bells, one for each deer.”
“Bring me another trumpet and a toy cat,” replied the King, “and you shall have a second string of bells like the first.”
“It is a bargain!” cried Claus, and he went home again for the toys. The new sledge was carefully built, the Knooks bringing plenty of strong but thin boards to use in its construction. Claus made a high, rounding dash-board to keep off the snow cast behind by the fleet hoofs of the deer; and he made high sides to the platform so that many toys could be carried, and finally he mounted the sledge upon the slender steel runners made by the Gnome King. It was certainly a handsome sledge, and big and roomy. Claus painted it in bright colors, although no one was likely to see it during his midnight journeys, and when all was finished he sent for Glossie and Flossie to come and look at it. The deer admired the sledge, but gravely declared it was too big and heavy for them to draw. “We might pull it over the snow, to be sure,” said Glossie; “but we would not pull it fast enough to enable us to visit the far-away cities and villages and return to the Forest by daybreak.”
“Then I must add two more deer to my team,” declared Claus, after a moment’s thought.
“The Knook Prince allowed you as many as ten. Why not use them all?” asked Flossie. “Then we could speed like the lightning and leap to the highest roofs with ease.”
“A team of ten reindeer!” cried Claus, delightedly. “That will be splendid. Please return to the Forest at once and select eight other deer as like yourselves as possible. And you must all eat of the casa plant, to become strong, and of the grawle plant, to become fleet of foot, and of the marbon plant, that you may live long to accompany me on my journeys. Likewise it will be well for you to bathe in the Pool of Nares, which the lovely Queen Zurline declares will render you rarely beautiful. Should you perform these duties faithfully there is no doubt that on next Christmas Eve my ten reindeer will be the most powerful and beautiful steeds the world has ever seen!” So Glossie and Flossie went to the Forest to choose their mates, and Claus began to consider the question of a harness for them all. In the end he called upon Peter Knook for assistance, for Peter’s heart is as kind as his body is crooked, and he is remarkably shrewd, as well. And Peter agreed to furnish strips of tough leather for the harness. This leather was cut from the skins of lions that had reached such an advanced age that they died naturally, and on one side was tawny hair while the other side was cured to the softness of velvet by the deft Knooks. When Claus received these strips of leather he sewed them neatly into a harness for the ten reindeer, and it proved strong and serviceable and lasted him for many years. The harness and sledge were prepared at odd times, for Claus devoted most of his days to the making of toys. These were now much better than the first ones had been, for the immortals often came to his house to watch him work and to offer suggestions. It was Necile’s idea to make some of the dolls say “papa” and “mama.” It was a thought of the Knooks to put a squeak inside the lambs, so that when a child squeezed them they would say “baa-a-a-a!” And the Fairy Queen advised Claus to put whistles in the birds, so they could be made to sing, and wheels on the horses, so children could draw them around. Many animals perished in the Forest, from one cause or another, and their fur was brought to Claus that he might cover with it the small images of beasts he made for playthings. A merry Ryl suggested that Claus make a donkey with a nodding head, which he did, and afterward found that it amused the little ones immensely. And so the toys grew in beauty and attractiveness every day, until they were the wonder of even the immortals. When another Christmas Eve drew near there was a monster load of beautiful gifts for the children ready to be loaded upon the big sledge. Claus filled three sacks to the brim, and tucked every corner of the sledge-box full of toys besides.
Then, at twilight, the ten reindeer appeared and Flossie introduced them all to Claus. They were Racer and Pacer, Reckless and Speckless, Fearless and Peerless, and Ready and Steady, who, with Glossie and Flossie, made up the ten who have traversed the world these hundreds of years with their generous master. They were all exceedingly beautiful, with slender limbs, spreading antlers, velvety dark eyes and smooth coats of fawn color spotted with white. Claus loved them at once, and has loved them ever since, for they are loyal friends and have rendered him priceless service. The new harness fitted them nicely and soon they were all fastened to the sledge by twos, with Glossie and Flossie in the lead. These wore the strings of sleigh-bells, and were so delighted with the music they made that they kept prancing up and down to make the bells ring. Claus now seated himself in the sledge, drew a warm robe over his knees and his fur cap over his ears, and cracked his long whip as a signal to start. Instantly the ten leaped forward and were away like the wind, while jolly Claus laughed gleefully to see them run and shouted a song in his big, hearty voice:
“With a ho, ho, ho!
And a ha, ha, ha!
And a ho, ho, ha, ha, hee!
Now away we go
O’er the frozen snow,
As merry as we can be!
There are many joys
In our load of toys,
As many a child will know;
We’ll scatter them wide
On our wild night ride
O’er the crisp and sparkling snow!”
End of Part 4.