1.  The Laughing Valley

When Claus came the Valley was empty save for the grass, the brook, the wildflowers, the bees and the butterflies.  If he would make his home here and live after the fashion of men he must have a house.  This puzzled him at first, but while he stood smiling in the sunshine he suddenly found beside him old Nelko, the servant of the Master Woodsman.  Nelko bore an ax, strong and broad, with blade that gleamed like burnished silver.  This he placed in the young man’s hand, then disappeared without a word.

Claus understood, and turning to the Forest’s edge he selected a number of fallen tree-trunks, which he began to clear of their dead branches.  He would not cut into a living tree.  His life among the nymphs who guarded the Forest had taught him that a live tree is sacred, being a created thing endowed with feeling.  But with the dead and fallen trees it was different.  They had fulfilled their destiny, as active members of the Forest community, and now it was fitting that their remains should minister to the needs of man.

The ax bit deep into the logs at every stroke.  It seemed to have a force of its own, and Claus had but to swing and guide it.

When shadows began creeping over the green hills to lie in the Valley overnight, the young man had chopped many logs into equal lengths and proper shapes for building a house such as he had seen the poorer classes of men inhabit.  Then, resolving to await another day before he tried to fit the logs together, Claus ate some of the sweet roots he well knew how to find, drank deeply from the laughing brook, and lay down to sleep on the grass, first seeking a spot where no flowers grew, lest the weight of his body should crush them.

And while he slumbered and breathed in the perfume of the wondrous Valley the Spirit of Happiness crept into his heart and drove out all terror and care and misgivings.  Never more would the face of Claus be clouded with anxieties; never more would the trials of life weigh him down as with a burden.  The Laughing Valley had claimed him for its own.

Would that we all might live in that delightful place! ­but then, maybe, it would become overcrowded.  For ages it had awaited a tenant.  Was it chance that led young Claus to make his home in this happy vale?  Or may we guess that his thoughtful friends, the immortals, had directed his steps when he wandered away from Burzee to seek a home in the great world?

Certain it is that while the moon peered over the hilltop and flooded with its soft beams the body of the sleeping stranger, the Laughing Valley was filled with the queer, crooked shapes of the friendly Knooks.  These people spoke no words, but worked with skill and swiftness.  The logs Claus had trimmed with his bright ax were carried to a spot beside the brook and fitted one upon another, and during the night a strong and roomy dwelling was built.

The birds came sweeping into the Valley at daybreak, and their songs, so seldom heard in the deep wood, aroused the stranger.  He rubbed the web of sleep from his eyelids and looked around.  The house met his gaze.

“I must thank the Knooks for this,” said he, gratefully.  Then he walked to his dwelling and entered at the doorway.  A large room faced him, having a fireplace at the end and a table and bench in the middle.  Beside the fireplace was a cupboard.  Another doorway was beyond.  Claus entered here, also, and saw a smaller room with a bed against the wall and a stool set near a small stand.  On the bed were many layers of dried moss brought from the Forest.

“Indeed, it is a palace!” exclaimed the smiling Claus.  “I must thank the good Knooks again, for their knowledge of man’s needs as well as for their labors in my behalf.”

He left his new home with a glad feeling that he was not quite alone in the world, although he had chosen to abandon his Forest life.  Friendships are not easily broken, and the immortals are everywhere.

Upon reaching the brook he drank of the pure water, and then sat down on the bank to laugh at the mischievous gambols of the ripples as they pushed one another against rocks or crowded desperately to see which should first reach the turn beyond.  And as they raced away he listened to the song they sang: 

  “Rushing, pushing, on we go! 
  Not a wave may gently flow ­
    All are too excited. 
    Ev’ry drop, delighted,
  Turns to spray in merry play
  As we tumble on our way!”

Next Claus searched for roots to eat, while the daffodils turned their little eyes up to him laughingly and lisped their dainty song: 

  “Blooming fairly, growing rarely,
    Never flowerets were so gay! 
  Perfume breathing, joy bequeathing,
    As our colors we display.”

It made Claus laugh to hear the little things voice their happiness as they nodded gracefully on their stems.  But another strain caught his ear as the sunbeams fell gently across his face and whispered: 

  “Here is gladness, that our rays
    Warm the valley through the days;
  Here is happiness, to give
    Comfort unto all who live!”

“Yes!” cried Claus in answer, “there is happiness and joy in all things here.  The Laughing Valley is a valley of peace and good-will.”

He passed the day talking with the ants and beetles and exchanging jokes with the light-hearted butterflies.  And at night he lay on his bed of soft moss and slept soundly.

Then came the Fairies, merry but noiseless, bringing skillets and pots and dishes and pans and all the tools necessary to prepare food and to comfort a mortal.  With these they filled cupboard and fireplace, finally placing a stout suit of wool clothing on the stool by the bedside.

When Claus awoke he rubbed his eyes again, and laughed, and spoke aloud his thanks to the Fairies and the Master Woodsman who had sent them.  With eager joy he examined all his new possessions, wondering what some might be used for.  But, in the days when he had clung to the girdle of the great Ak and visited the cities of men, his eyes had been quick to note all the manners and customs of the race to which he belonged; so he guessed from the gifts brought by the Fairies that the Master expected him hereafter to live in the fashion of his fellow-creatures.

“Which means that I must plow the earth and plant corn,” he reflected; “so that when winter comes I shall have garnered food in plenty.”

But, as he stood in the grassy Valley, he saw that to turn up the earth in furrows would be to destroy hundreds of pretty, helpless flowers, as well as thousands of the tender blades of grass.  And this he could not bear to do.

Therefore he stretched out his arms and uttered a peculiar whistle he had learned in the Forest, afterward crying: 

“Ryls of the Field Flowers ­come to me!”

Instantly a dozen of the queer little Ryls were squatting upon the ground before him, and they nodded to him in cheerful greeting.

Claus gazed upon them earnestly.

“Your brothers of the Forest,” he said, “I have known and loved many years.  I shall love you, also, when we have become friends.  To me the laws of the Ryls, whether those of the Forest or of the field, are sacred.  I have never wilfully destroyed one of the flowers you tend so carefully; but I must plant grain to use for food during the cold winter, and how am I to do this without killing the little creatures that sing to me so prettily of their fragrant blossoms?”

The Yellow Ryl, he who tends the buttercups, made answer: 

“Fret not, friend Claus.  The great Ak has spoken to us of you.  There is better work for you in life than to labor for food, and though, not being of the Forest, Ak has no command over us, nevertheless are we glad to favor one he loves.  Live, therefore, to do the good work you are resolved to undertake.  We, the Field Ryls, will attend to your food supplies.”

After this speech the Ryls were no longer to be seen, and Claus drove from his mind the thought of tilling the earth.

When next he wandered back to his dwelling a bowl of fresh milk stood upon the table; bread was in the cupboard and sweet honey filled a dish beside it.  A pretty basket of rosy apples and new-plucked grapes was also awaiting him.  He called out “Thanks, my friends!” to the invisible Ryls, and straightway began to eat of the food.

Thereafter, when hungry, he had but to look into the cupboard to find goodly supplies brought by the kindly Ryls.  And the Knooks cut and stacked much wood for his fireplace.  And the Fairies brought him warm blankets and clothing.

So began his life in the Laughing Valley, with the favor and friendship of the immortals to minister to his every want.

2.  How Claus Made the First Toy

Truly our Claus had wisdom, for his good fortune but strengthened his resolve to befriend the little ones of his own race.  He knew his plan was approved by the immortals, else they would not have favored him so greatly.

So he began at once to make acquaintance with mankind.  He walked through the Valley to the plain beyond, and crossed the plain in many directions to reach the abodes of men.  These stood singly or in groups of dwellings called villages, and in nearly all the houses, whether big or little, Claus found children.

The youngsters soon came to know his merry, laughing face and the kind glance of his bright eyes; and the parents, while they regarded the young man with some scorn for loving children more than their elders, were content that the girls and boys had found a playfellow who seemed willing to amuse them.

So the children romped and played games with Claus, and the boys rode upon his shoulders, and the girls nestled in his strong arms, and the babies clung fondly to his knees.  Wherever the young man chanced to be, the sound of childish laughter followed him; and to understand this better you must know that children were much neglected in those days and received little attention from their parents, so that it became to them a marvel that so goodly a man as Claus devoted his time to making them happy.  And those who knew him were, you may be sure, very happy indeed.  The sad faces of the poor and abused grew bright for once; the cripple smiled despite his misfortune; the ailing ones hushed their moans and the grieved ones their cries when their merry friend came nigh to comfort them.

Only at the beautiful palace of the Lord of Lerd and at the frowning castle of the Baron Braun was Claus refused admittance.  There were children at both places; but the servants at the palace shut the door in the young stranger’s face, and the fierce Baron threatened to hang him from an iron hook on the castle walls.  Whereupon Claus sighed and went back to the poorer dwellings where he was welcome.

After a time the winter drew near.

The flowers lived out their lives and faded and disappeared; the beetles burrowed far into the warm earth; the butterflies deserted the meadows; and the voice of the brook grew hoarse, as if it had taken cold.

One day snowflakes filled all the air in the Laughing Valley, dancing boisterously toward the earth and clothing in pure white raiment the roof of Claus’s dwelling.

At night Jack Frost rapped at the door.

“Come in!” cried Claus.

“Come out!” answered Jack, “for you have a fire inside.”

So Claus came out.  He had known Jack Frost in the Forest, and liked the jolly rogue, even while he mistrusted him.

“There will be rare sport for me to-night, Claus!” shouted the sprite.  “Isn’t this glorious weather?  I shall nip scores of noses and ears and toes before daybreak.”

“If you love me, Jack, spare the children,” begged Claus.

“And why?” asked the other, in surprise.

“They are tender and helpless,” answered Claus.

“But I love to nip the tender ones!” declared Jack.  “The older ones are tough, and tire my fingers.”

“The young ones are weak, and can not fight you,” said Claus.

“True,” agreed Jack, thoughtfully.  “Well, I will not pinch a child this night ­if I can resist the temptation,” he promised.  “Good night, Claus!”

“Good night.”

The young man went in and closed the door, and Jack Frost ran on to the nearest village.

Claus threw a log on the fire, which burned up brightly.  Beside the hearth sat Blinkie, a big cat give him by Peter the Knook.  Her fur was soft and glossy, and she purred never-ending songs of contentment.

“I shall not see the children again soon,” said Claus to the cat, who kindly paused in her song to listen.  “The winter is upon us, the snow will be deep for many days, and I shall be unable to play with my little friends.”

The cat raised a paw and stroked her nose thoughtfully, but made no reply.  So long as the fire burned and Claus sat in his easy chair by the hearth she did not mind the weather.

So passed many days and many long evenings.  The cupboard was always full, but Claus became weary with having nothing to do more than to feed the fire from the big wood-pile the Knooks had brought him.

One evening he picked up a stick of wood and began to cut it with his sharp knife.  He had no thought, at first, except to occupy his time, and he whistled and sang to the cat as he carved away portions of the stick.  Puss sat up on her haunches and watched him, listening at the same time to her master’s merry whistle, which she loved to hear even more than her own purring songs.

Claus glanced at puss and then at the stick he was whittling, until presently the wood began to have a shape, and the shape was like the head of a cat, with two ears sticking upward.

Claus stopped whistling to laugh, and then both he and the cat looked at the wooden image in some surprise.  Then he carved out the eyes and the nose, and rounded the lower part of the head so that it rested upon a neck.

Puss hardly knew what to make of it now, and sat up stiffly, as if watching with some suspicion what would come next.

Claus knew.  The head gave him an idea.  He plied his knife carefully and with skill, forming slowly the body of the cat, which he made to sit upon its haunches as the real cat did, with her tail wound around her two front legs.

The work cost him much time, but the evening was long and he had nothing better to do.  Finally he gave a loud and delighted laugh at the result of his labors and placed the wooden cat, now completed, upon the hearth opposite the real one.

Puss thereupon glared at her image, raised her hair in anger, and uttered a defiant mew.  The wooden cat paid no attention, and Claus, much amused, laughed again.

Then Blinkie advanced toward the wooden image to eye it closely and smell of it intelligently:  Eyes and nose told her the creature was wood, in spite of its natural appearance; so puss resumed her seat and her purring, but as she neatly washed her face with her padded paw she cast more than one admiring glance at her clever master.  Perhaps she felt the same satisfaction we feel when we look upon good photographs of ourselves.

The cat’s master was himself pleased with his handiwork, without knowing exactly why.  Indeed, he had great cause to congratulate himself that night, and all the children throughout the world should have joined him rejoicing.  For Claus had made his first toy.

3.  How the Ryls Colored the Toys

A hush lay on the Laughing Valley now.  Snow covered it like a white spread and pillows of downy flakes drifted before the dwelling where Claus sat feeding the blaze of the fire.  The brook gurgled on beneath a heavy sheet of ice and all living plants and insects nestled close to Mother Earth to keep warm.  The face of the moon was hid by dark clouds, and the wind, delighting in the wintry sport, pushed and whirled the snowflakes in so many directions that they could get no chance to fall to the ground.

Claus heard the wind whistling and shrieking in its play and thanked the good Knooks again for his comfortable shelter.  Blinkie washed her face lazily and stared at the coals with a look of perfect content.  The toy cat sat opposite the real one and gazed straight ahead, as toy cats should.

Suddenly Claus heard a noise that sounded different from the voice of the wind.  It was more like a wail of suffering and despair.

He stood up and listened, but the wind, growing boisterous, shook the door and rattled the windows to distract his attention.  He waited until the wind was tired and then, still listening, he heard once more the shrill cry of distress.

Quickly he drew on his coat, pulled his cap over his eyes and opened the door.  The wind dashed in and scattered the embers over the hearth, at the same time blowing Blinkie’s fur so furiously that she crept under the table to escape.  Then the door was closed and Claus was outside, peering anxiously into the darkness.

The wind laughed and scolded and tried to push him over, but he stood firm.  The helpless flakes stumbled against his eyes and dimmed his sight, but he rubbed them away and looked again.  Snow was everywhere, white and glittering.  It covered the earth and filled the air.

The cry was not repeated.

Claus turned to go back into the house, but the wind caught him unawares and he stumbled and fell across a snowdrift.  His hand plunged into the drift and touched something that was not snow.  This he seized and, pulling it gently toward him, found it to be a child.  The next moment he had lifted it in his arms and carried it into the house.

The wind followed him through the door, but Claus shut it out quickly.  He laid the rescued child on the hearth, and brushing away the snow he discovered it to be Weekum, a little boy who lived in a house beyond the Valley.

Claus wrapped a warm blanket around the little one and rubbed the frost from its limbs.  Before long the child opened his eyes and, seeing where he was, smiled happily.  Then Claus warmed milk and fed it to the boy slowly, while the cat looked on with sober curiosity.  Finally the little one curled up in his friend’s arms and sighed and fell asleep, and Claus, filled with gladness that he had found the wanderer, held him closely while he slumbered.

The wind, finding no more mischief to do, climbed the hill and swept on toward the north.  This gave the weary snowflakes time to settle down to earth, and the Valley became still again.

The boy, having slept well in the arms of his friend, opened his eyes and sat up.  Then, as a child will, he looked around the room and saw all that it contained.

“Your cat is a nice cat, Claus,” he said, at last.  “Let me hold it.”

But puss objected and ran away.

“The other cat won’t run, Claus,” continued the boy.  “Let me hold that one.”  Claus placed the toy in his arms, and the boy held it lovingly and kissed the tip of its wooden ear.

“How did you get lost in the storm, Weekum?” asked Claus.

“I started to walk to my auntie’s house and lost my way,” answered Weekum.

“Were you frightened?”

“It was cold,” said Weekum, “and the snow got in my eyes, so I could not see.  Then I kept on till I fell in the snow, without knowing where I was, and the wind blew the flakes over me and covered me up.”

Claus gently stroked his head, and the boy looked up at him and smiled.

“I’m all right now,” said Weekum.

“Yes,” replied Claus, happily.  “Now I will put you in my warm bed, and you must sleep until morning, when I will carry you back to your mother.”

“May the cat sleep with me?” asked the boy.

“Yes, if you wish it to,” answered Claus.

“It’s a nice cat!” Weekum said, smiling, as Claus tucked the blankets around him; and presently the little one fell asleep with the wooden toy in his arms.

When morning came the sun claimed the Laughing Valley and flooded it with his rays; so Claus prepared to take the lost child back to its mother.

“May I keep the cat, Claus?” asked Weekum.  “It’s nicer than real cats.  It doesn’t run away, or scratch or bite.  May I keep it?”

“Yes, indeed,” answered Claus, pleased that the toy he had made could give pleasure to the child.  So he wrapped the boy and the wooden cat in a warm cloak, perching the bundle upon his own broad shoulders, and then he tramped through the snow and the drifts of the Valley and across the plain beyond to the poor cottage where Weekum’s mother lived.

“See, mama!” cried the boy, as soon as they entered, “I’ve got a cat!”

The good woman wept tears of joy over the rescue of her darling and thanked Claus many times for his kind act.  So he carried a warm and happy heart back to his home in the Valley.

That night he said to puss:  “I believe the children will love the wooden cats almost as well as the real ones, and they can’t hurt them by pulling their tails and ears.  I’ll make another.”

So this was the beginning of his great work.

The next cat was better made than the first.  While Claus sat whittling it out the Yellow Ryl came in to make him a visit, and so pleased was he with the man’s skill that he ran away and brought several of his fellows.

There sat the Red Ryl, the Black Ryl, the Green Ryl, the Blue Ryl and the Yellow Ryl in a circle on the floor, while Claus whittled and whistled and the wooden cat grew into shape.

“If it could be made the same color as the real cat, no one would know the difference,” said the Yellow Ryl, thoughtfully.

“The little ones, maybe, would not know the difference,” replied Claus, pleased with the idea.

“I will bring you some of the red that I color my roses and tulips with,” cried the Red Ryl; “and then you can make the cat’s lips and tongue red.”

“I will bring some of the green that I color my grasses and leaves with,” said the Green Ryl; “and then you can color the cat’s eyes green.”

“They will need a bit of yellow, also,” remarked the Yellow Ryl; “I must fetch some of the yellow that I use to color my buttercups and goldenrods with.”

“The real cat is black,” said the Black Ryl; “I will bring some of the black that I use to color the eyes of my pansies with, and then you can paint your wooden cat black.”

“I see you have a blue ribbon around Blinkie’s neck,” added the Blue Ryl.  “I will get some of the color that I use to paint the bluebells and forget-me-nots with, and then you can carve a wooden ribbon on the toy cat’s neck and paint it blue.”

So the Ryls disappeared, and by the time Claus had finished carving out the form of the cat they were all back with the paints and brushes.

They made Blinkie sit upon the table, that Claus might paint the toy cat just the right color, and when the work was done the Ryls declared it was exactly as good as a live cat.

“That is, to all appearances,” added the Red Ryl.

Blinkie seemed a little offended by the attention bestowed upon the toy, and that she might not seem to approve the imitation cat she walked to the corner of the hearth and sat down with a dignified air.

But Claus was delighted, and as soon as morning came he started out and tramped through the snow, across the Valley and the plain, until he came to a village.  There, in a poor hut near the walls of the beautiful palace of the Lord of Lerd, a little girl lay upon a wretched cot, moaning with pain.

Claus approached the child and kissed her and comforted her, and then he drew the toy cat from beneath his coat, where he had hidden it, and placed it in her arms.

Ah, how well he felt himself repaid for his labor and his long walk when he saw the little one’s eyes grow bright with pleasure!  She hugged the kitty tight to her breast, as if it had been a precious gem, and would not let it go for a single moment.  The fever was quieted, the pain grew less, and she fell into a sweet and refreshing sleep.

Claus laughed and whistled and sang all the way home.  Never had he been so happy as on that day.

When he entered his house he found Shiegra, the lioness, awaiting him.  Since his babyhood Shiegra had loved Claus, and while he dwelt in the Forest she had often come to visit him at Necile’s bower.  After Claus had gone to live in the Laughing Valley Shiegra became lonely and ill at ease, and now she had braved the snow-drifts, which all lions abhor, to see him once more.  Shiegra was getting old and her teeth were beginning to fall out, while the hairs that tipped her ears and tail had changed from tawny-yellow to white.

Claus found her lying on his hearth, and he put his arms around the neck of the lioness and hugged her lovingly.  The cat had retired into a far corner.  She did not care to associate with Shiegra.

Claus told his old friend about the cats he had made, and how much pleasure they had given Weekum and the sick girl.  Shiegra did not know much about children; indeed, if she met a child she could scarcely be trusted not to devour it.  But she was interested in Claus’ new labors, and said: 

“These images seem to me very attractive.  Yet I can not see why you should make cats, which are very unimportant animals.  Suppose, now that I am here, you make the image of a lioness, the Queen of all beasts.  Then, indeed, your children will be happy ­and safe at the same time!”

Claus thought this was a good suggestion.  So he got a piece of wood and sharpened his knife, while Shiegra crouched upon the hearth at his feet.  With much care he carved the head in the likeness of the lioness, even to the two fierce teeth that curved over her lower lip and the deep, frowning lines above her wide-open eyes.

When it was finished he said: 

“You have a terrible look, Shiegra.”

“Then the image is like me,” she answered; “for I am indeed terrible to all who are not my friends.”

Claus now carved out the body, with Shiegra’s long tail trailing behind it.  The image of the crouching lioness was very life-like.

“It pleases me,” said Shiegra, yawning and stretching her body gracefully.  “Now I will watch while you paint.”

He brought the paints the Ryls had given him from the cupboard and colored the image to resemble the real Shiegra.

The lioness placed her big, padded paws upon the edge of the table and raised herself while she carefully examined the toy that was her likeness.

“You are indeed skillful!” she said, proudly.  “The children will like that better than cats, I’m sure.”

Then snarling at Blinkie, who arched her back in terror and whined fearfully, she walked away toward her forest home with stately strides.

4.  How Little Mayrie Became Frightened

The winter was over now, and all the Laughing Valley was filled with joyous excitement.  The brook was so happy at being free once again that it gurgled more boisterously than ever and dashed so recklessly against the rocks that it sent showers of spray high in the air.  The grass thrust its sharp little blades upward through the mat of dead stalks where it had hidden from the snow, but the flowers were yet too timid to show themselves, although the Ryls were busy feeding their roots.  The sun was in remarkably good humor, and sent his rays dancing merrily throughout the Valley.

Claus was eating his dinner one day when he heard a timid knock on his door.

“Come in!” he called.

No one entered, but after a pause came another rapping.

Claus jumped up and threw open the door.  Before him stood a small girl holding a smaller brother fast by the hand.

“Is you Tlaus?” she asked, shyly.

“Indeed I am, my dear!” he answered, with a laugh, as he caught both children in his arms and kissed them.  “You are very welcome, and you have come just in time to share my dinner.”

He took them to the table and fed them with fresh milk and nut-cakes.  When they had eaten enough he asked: 

“Why have you made this long journey to see me?”

“I wants a tat!” replied little Mayrie; and her brother, who had not yet learned to speak many words, nodded his head and exclaimed like an echo:  “Tat!”

“Oh, you want my toy cats, do you?” returned Claus, greatly pleased to discover that his creations were so popular with children.

The little visitors nodded eagerly.

“Unfortunately,” he continued, “I have but one cat now ready, for I carried two to children in the town yesterday.  And the one I have shall be given to your brother, Mayrie, because he is the smaller; and the next one I make shall be for you.”

The boy’s face was bright with smiles as he took the precious toy Claus held out to him; but little Mayrie covered her face with her arm and began to sob grievously.

“I ­I ­I wants a t ­t ­tat now!” she wailed.

Her disappointment made Claus feel miserable for a moment.  Then he suddenly remembered Shiegra.

“Don’t cry, darling!” he said, soothingly; “I have a toy much nicer than a cat, and you shall have that.”

He went to the cupboard and drew out the image of the lioness, which he placed on the table before Mayrie.

The girl raised her arm and gave one glance at the fierce teeth and glaring eyes of the beast, and then, uttering a terrified scream, she rushed from the house.  The boy followed her, also screaming lustily, and even dropping his precious cat in his fear.

For a moment Claus stood motionless, being puzzled and astonished.  Then he threw Shiegra’s image into the cupboard and ran after the children, calling to them not to be frightened.

Little Mayrie stopped in her flight and her brother clung to her skirt; but they both cast fearful glances at the house until Claus had assured them many times that the beast had been locked in the cupboard.

“Yet why were you frightened at seeing it?” he asked.  “It is only a toy to play with!”

“It’s bad!” said Mayrie, decidedly, “an’ ­an’ ­just horrid, an’ not a bit nice, like tats!”

“Perhaps you are right,” returned Claus, thoughtfully.  “But if you will return with me to the house I will soon make you a pretty cat.”

So they timidly entered the house again, having faith in their friend’s words; and afterward they had the joy of watching Claus carve out a cat from a bit of wood and paint it in natural colors.  It did not take him long to do this, for he had become skillful with his knife by this time, and Mayrie loved her toy the more dearly because she had seen it made.

After his little visitors had trotted away on their journey homeward Claus sat long in deep thought.  And he then decided that such fierce creatures as his friend the lioness would never do as models from which to fashion his toys.

“There must be nothing to frighten the dear babies,” he reflected; “and while I know Shiegra well, and am not afraid of her, it is but natural that children should look upon her image with terror.  Hereafter I will choose such mild-mannered animals as squirrels and rabbits and deer and lambkins from which to carve my toys, for then the little ones will love rather than fear them.”

He began his work that very day, and before bedtime had made a wooden rabbit and a lamb.  They were not quite so lifelike as the cats had been, because they were formed from memory, while Blinkie had sat very still for Claus to look at while he worked.

But the new toys pleased the children nevertheless, and the fame of Claus’ playthings quickly spread to every cottage on plain and in village.  He always carried his gifts to the sick or crippled children, but those who were strong enough walked to the house in the Valley to ask for them, so a little path was soon worn from the plain to the door of the toy-maker’s cottage.

First came the children who had been playmates of Claus, before he began to make toys.  These, you may be sure, were well supplied.  Then children who lived farther away heard of the wonderful images and made journeys to the Valley to secure them.  All little ones were welcome, and never a one went away empty-handed.

This demand for his handiwork kept Claus busily occupied, but he was quite happy in knowing the pleasure he gave to so many of the dear children.  His friends the immortals were pleased with his success and supported him bravely.

The Knooks selected for him clear pieces of soft wood, that his knife might not be blunted in cutting them; the Ryls kept him supplied with paints of all colors and brushes fashioned from the tips of timothy grasses; the Fairies discovered that the workman needed saws and chisels and hammers and nails, as well as knives, and brought him a goodly array of such tools.

Claus soon turned his living room into a most wonderful workshop.  He built a bench before the window, and arranged his tools and paints so that he could reach everything as he sat on his stool.  And as he finished toy after toy to delight the hearts of little children he found himself growing so gay and happy that he could not refrain from singing and laughing and whistling all the day long.

“It’s because I live in the Laughing Valley, where everything else laughs!” said Claus.

But that was not the reason.

5.  How Bessie Blithesome Came to the Laughing Valley

One day, as Claus sat before his door to enjoy the sunshine while he busily carved the head and horns of a toy deer, he looked up and discovered a glittering cavalcade of horsemen approaching through the Valley.

When they drew nearer he saw that the band consisted of a score of men-at-arms, clad in bright armor and bearing in their hands spears and battle-axes.  In front of these rode little Bessie Blithesome, the pretty daughter of that proud Lord of Lerd who had once driven Claus from his palace.  Her palfrey was pure white, its bridle was covered with glittering gems, and its saddle draped with cloth of gold, richly broidered.  The soldiers were sent to protect her from harm while she journeyed.

Claus was surprised, but he continued to whittle and to sing until the cavalcade drew up before him.  Then the little girl leaned over the neck of her palfrey and said: 

“Please, Mr. Claus, I want a toy!”

Her voice was so pleading that Claus jumped up at once and stood beside her.  But he was puzzled how to answer her request.

“You are a rich lord’s daughter,” said he, “and have all that you desire.”

“Except toys,” added Bessie.  “There are no toys in all the world but yours.”

“And I make them for the poor children, who have nothing else to amuse them,” continued Claus.

“Do poor children love to play with toys more than rich ones?” asked Bessie.

“I suppose not,” said Claus, thoughtfully.

“Am I to blame because my father is a lord?  Must I be denied the pretty toys I long for because other children are poorer than I?” she inquired earnestly.

“I’m afraid you must, dear,” he answered; “for the poor have nothing else with which to amuse themselves.  You have your pony to ride, your servants to wait on you, and every comfort that money can procure.”

“But I want toys!” cried Bessie, wiping away the tears that forced themselves into her eyes.  “If I can not have them, I shall be very unhappy.”

Claus was troubled, for her grief recalled to him the thought that his desire was to make all children happy, without regard to their condition in life.  Yet, while so many poor children were clamoring for his toys he could not bear to give one to them to Bessie Blithesome, who had so much already to make her happy.

“Listen, my child,” said he, gently; “all the toys I am now making are promised to others.  But the next shall be yours, since your heart so longs for it.  Come to me again in two days and it shall be ready for you.”

Bessie gave a cry of delight, and leaning over her pony’s neck she kissed Claus prettily upon his forehead.  Then, calling to her men-at-arms, she rode gaily away, leaving Claus to resume his work.

“If I am to supply the rich children as well as the poor ones,” he thought, “I shall not have a spare moment in the whole year!  But is it right I should give to the rich?  Surely I must go to Necile and talk with her about this matter.”

So when he had finished the toy deer, which was very like a deer he had known in the Forest glades, he walked into Burzee and made his way to the bower of the beautiful Nymph Necile, who had been his foster mother.

She greeted him tenderly and lovingly, listening with interest to his story of the visit of Bessie Blithesome.

“And now tell me,” said he, “shall I give toys to rich children?”

“We of the Forest know nothing of riches,” she replied.  “It seems to me that one child is like another child, since they are all made of the same clay, and that riches are like a gown, which may be put on or taken away, leaving the child unchanged.  But the Fairies are guardians of mankind, and know mortal children better than I. Let us call the Fairy Queen.”

This was done, and the Queen of the Fairies sat beside them and heard Claus relate his reasons for thinking the rich children could get along without his toys, and also what the Nymph had said.

“Necile is right,” declared the Queen; “for, whether it be rich or poor, a child’s longings for pretty playthings are but natural.  Rich Bessie’s heart may suffer as much grief as poor Mayrie’s; she can be just as lonely and discontented, and just as gay and happy.  I think, friend Claus, it is your duty to make all little ones glad, whether they chance to live in palaces or in cottages.”

“Your words are wise, fair Queen,” replied Claus, “and my heart tells me they are as just as they are wise.  Hereafter all children may claim my services.”

Then he bowed before the gracious Fairy and, kissing Necile’s red lips, went back into his Valley.

At the brook he stopped to drink, and afterward he sat on the bank and took a piece of moist clay in his hands while he thought what sort of toy he should make for Bessie Blithesome.  He did not notice that his fingers were working the clay into shape until, glancing downward, he found he had unconsciously formed a head that bore a slight resemblance to the Nymph Necile!

At once he became interested.  Gathering more of the clay from the bank he carried it to his house.  Then, with the aid of his knife and a bit of wood he succeeded in working the clay into the image of a toy nymph.  With skillful strokes he formed long, waving hair on the head and covered the body with a gown of oakleaves, while the two feet sticking out at the bottom of the gown were clad in sandals.

But the clay was soft, and Claus found he must handle it gently to avoid ruining his pretty work.

“Perhaps the rays of the sun will draw out the moisture and cause the clay to become hard,” he thought.  So he laid the image on a flat board and placed it in the glare of the sun.

This done, he went to his bench and began painting the toy deer, and soon he became so interested in the work that he forgot all about the clay nymph.  But next morning, happening to notice it as it lay on the board, he found the sun had baked it to the hardness of stone, and it was strong enough to be safely handled.

Claus now painted the nymph with great care in the likeness of Necile, giving it deep-blue eyes, white teeth, rosy lips and ruddy-brown hair.  The gown he colored oak-leaf green, and when the paint was dry Claus himself was charmed with the new toy.  Of course it was not nearly so lovely as the real Necile; but, considering the material of which it was made, Claus thought it was very beautiful.

When Bessie, riding upon her white palfrey, came to his dwelling next day, Claus presented her with the new toy.  The little girl’s eyes were brighter than ever as she examined the pretty image, and she loved it at once, and held it close to her breast, as a mother does to her child.

“What is it called, Claus?” she asked.

Now Claus knew that Nymphs do not like to be spoken of by mortals, so he could not tell Bessie it was an image of Necile he had given her.  But as it was a new toy he searched his mind for a new name to call it by, and the first word he thought of he decided would do very well.

“It is called a dolly, my dear,” he said to Bessie.

“I shall call the dolly my baby,” returned Bessie, kissing it fondly; “and I shall tend it and care for it just as Nurse cares for me.  Thank you very much, Claus; your gift has made me happier than I have ever been before!”

Then she rode away, hugging the toy in her arms, and Claus, seeing her delight, thought he would make another dolly, better and more natural than the first.

He brought more clay from the brook, and remembering that Bessie had called the dolly her baby he resolved to form this one into a baby’s image.  That was no difficult task to the clever workman, and soon the baby dolly was lying on the board and placed in the sun to dry.  Then, with the clay that was left, he began to make an image of Bessie Blithesome herself.

This was not so easy, for he found he could not make the silken robe of the lord’s daughter out of the common clay.  So he called the Fairies to his aid, and asked them to bring him colored silks with which to make a real dress for the clay image.  The Fairies set off at once on their errand, and before nightfall they returned with a generous supply of silks and laces and golden threads.

Claus now became impatient to complete his new dolly, and instead of waiting for the next day’s sun he placed the clay image upon his hearth and covered it over with glowing coals.  By morning, when he drew the dolly from the ashes, it had baked as hard as if it had lain a full day in the hot sun.

Now our Claus became a dressmaker as well as a toymaker.  He cut the lavender silk, and nearly sewed it into a beautiful gown that just fitted the new dolly.  And he put a lace collar around its neck and pink silk shoes on its feet.  The natural color of baked clay is a light gray, but Claus painted the face to resemble the color of flesh, and he gave the dolly Bessie’s brown eyes and golden hair and rosy cheeks.

It was really a beautiful thing to look upon, and sure to bring joy to some childish heart.  While Claus was admiring it he heard a knock at his door, and little Mayrie entered.  Her face was sad and her eyes red with continued weeping.

“Why, what has grieved you, my dear?” asked Claus, taking the child in his arms.

“I’ve ­I’ve ­bwoke my tat!” sobbed Mayrie.

“How?” he inquired, his eyes twinkling.

“I ­I dwopped him, an’ bwoke off him’s tail; an’ ­an’ ­then I dwopped him an’ bwoke off him’s ear!  An’ ­an’ now him’s all spoilt!”

Claus laughed.

“Never mind, Mayrie dear,” he said.  “How would you like this new dolly, instead of a cat?”

Mayrie looked at the silk-robed dolly and her eyes grew big with astonishment.

“Oh, Tlaus!” she cried, clapping her small hands together with rapture; “tan I have ’at boo’ful lady?”

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“I love it!” said she.  “It’s better ’an tats!”

“Then take it, dear, and be careful not to break it.”

Mayrie took the dolly with a joy that was almost reverent, and her face dimpled with smiles as she started along the path toward home.

6.  The Wickedness of the Awgwas

I must now tell you something about the Awgwas, that terrible race of creatures which caused our good Claus so much trouble and nearly succeeded in robbing the children of the world of their earliest and best friend.

I do not like to mention the Awgwas, but they are a part of this history, and can not be ignored.  They were neither mortals nor immortals, but stood midway between those classes of beings.  The Awgwas were invisible to ordinary people, but not to immortals.  They could pass swiftly through the air from one part of the world to another, and had the power of influencing the minds of human beings to do their wicked will.

They were of gigantic stature and had coarse, scowling countenances which showed plainly their hatred of all mankind.  They possessed no consciences whatever and delighted only in evil deeds.

Their homes were in rocky, mountainous places, from whence they sallied forth to accomplish their wicked purposes.

The one of their number that could think of the most horrible deed for them to do was always elected the King Awgwa, and all the race obeyed his orders.  Sometimes these creatures lived to become a hundred years old, but usually they fought so fiercely among themselves that many were destroyed in combat, and when they died that was the end of them.  Mortals were powerless to harm them and the immortals shuddered when the Awgwas were mentioned, and always avoided them.  So they flourished for many years unopposed and accomplished much evil.

I am glad to assure you that these vile creatures have long since perished and passed from earth; but in the days when Claus was making his first toys they were a numerous and powerful tribe.

One of the principal sports of the Awgwas was to inspire angry passions in the hearts of little children, so that they quarreled and fought with one another.  They would tempt boys to eat of unripe fruit, and then delight in the pain they suffered; they urged little girls to disobey their parents, and then would laugh when the children were punished.  I do not know what causes a child to be naughty in these days, but when the Awgwas were on earth naughty children were usually under their influence.

Now, when Claus began to make children happy he kept them out of the power of the Awgwas; for children possessing such lovely playthings as he gave them had no wish to obey the evil thoughts the Awgwas tried to thrust into their minds.

Therefore, one year when the wicked tribe was to elect a new King, they chose an Awgwa who proposed to destroy Claus and take him away from the children.

“There are, as you know, fewer naughty children in the world since Claus came to the Laughing Valley and began to make his toys,” said the new King, as he squatted upon a rock and looked around at the scowling faces of his people.  “Why, Bessie Blithesome has not stamped her foot once this month, nor has Mayrie’s brother slapped his sister’s face or thrown the puppy into the rain-barrel.  Little Weekum took his bath last night without screaming or struggling, because his mother had promised he should take his toy cat to bed with him!  Such a condition of affairs is awful for any Awgwa to think of, and the only way we can direct the naughty actions of children is to take this person Claus away from them.”

“Good! good!” cried the big Awgwas, in a chorus, and they clapped their hands to applaud the speech of the King.

“But what shall we do with him?” asked one of the creatures.

“I have a plan,” replied the wicked King; and what his plan was you will soon discover.

That night Claus went to bed feeling very happy, for he had completed no less than four pretty toys during the day, and they were sure, he thought, to make four little children happy.  But while he slept the band of invisible Awgwas surrounded his bed, bound him with stout cords, and then flew away with him to the middle of a dark forest in far off Ethop, where they laid him down and left him.

When morning came Claus found himself thousands of miles from any human being, a prisoner in the wild jungle of an unknown land.

From the limb of a tree above his head swayed a huge python, one of those reptiles that are able to crush a man’s bones in their coils.  A few yards away crouched a savage panther, its glaring red eyes fixed full on the helpless Claus.  One of those monstrous spotted spiders whose sting is death crept stealthily toward him over the matted leaves, which shriveled and turned black at its very touch.

But Claus had been reared in Burzee, and was not afraid.

“Come to me, ye Knooks of the Forest!” he cried, and gave the low, peculiar whistle that the Knooks know.

The panther, which was about to spring upon its victim, turned and slunk away.  The python swung itself into the tree and disappeared among the leaves.  The spider stopped short in its advance and hid beneath a rotting log.

Claus had no time to notice them, for he was surrounded by a band of harsh-featured Knooks, more crooked and deformed in appearance than any he had ever seen.

“Who are you that call on us?” demanded one, in a gruff voice.

“The friend of your brothers in Burzee,” answered Claus.  “I have been brought here by my enemies, the Awgwas, and left to perish miserably.  Yet now I implore your help to release me and to send me home again.”

“Have you the sign?” asked another.

“Yes,” said Claus.

They cut his bonds, and with his free arms he made the secret sign of the Knooks.

Instantly they assisted him to stand upon his feet, and they brought him food and drink to strengthen him.

“Our brothers of Burzee make queer friends,” grumbled an ancient Knook whose flowing beard was pure white.  “But he who knows our secret sign and signal is entitled to our help, whoever he may be.  Close your eyes, stranger, and we will conduct you to your home.  Where shall we seek it?”

“’Tis in the Laughing Valley,” answered Claus, shutting his eyes.

“There is but one Laughing Valley in the known world, so we can not go astray,” remarked the Knook.

As he spoke the sound of his voice seemed to die away, so Claus opened his eyes to see what caused the change.  To his astonishment he found himself seated on the bench by his own door, with the Laughing Valley spread out before him.  That day he visited the Wood-Nymphs and related his adventure to Queen Zurline and Necile.

“The Awgwas have become your enemies,” said the lovely Queen, thoughtfully; “so we must do all we can to protect you from their power.”

“It was cowardly to bind him while he slept,” remarked Necile, with indignation.

“The evil ones are ever cowardly,” answered Zurline, “but our friend’s slumber shall not be disturbed again.”

The Queen herself came to the dwelling of Claus that evening and placed her Seal on every door and window, to keep out the Awgwas.  And under the Seal of Queen Zurline was placed the Seal of the Fairies and the Seal of the Ryls and the Seals of the Knooks, that the charm might become more powerful.

And Claus carried his toys to the children again, and made many more of the little ones happy.

You may guess how angry the King Awgwa and his fierce band were when it was known to them that Claus had escaped from the Forest of Ethop.

They raged madly for a whole week, and then held another meeting among the rocks.

“It is useless to carry him where the Knooks reign,” said the King, “for he has their protection.  So let us cast him into a cave of our own mountains, where he will surely perish.”

This was promptly agreed to, and the wicked band set out that night to seize Claus.  But they found his dwelling guarded by the Seals of the Immortals and were obliged to go away baffled and disappointed.

“Never mind,” said the King; “he does not sleep always!”

Next day, as Claus traveled to the village across the plain, where he intended to present a toy squirrel to a lame boy, he was suddenly set upon by the Awgwas, who seized him and carried him away to the mountains.

There they thrust him within a deep cavern and rolled many huge rocks against the entrance to prevent his escape.

Deprived thus of light and food, and with little air to breathe, our Claus was, indeed, in a pitiful plight.  But he spoke the mystic words of the Fairies, which always command their friendly aid, and they came to his rescue and transported him to the Laughing Valley in the twinkling of an eye.

Thus the Awgwas discovered they might not destroy one who had earned the friendship of the immortals; so the evil band sought other means of keeping Claus from bringing happiness to children and so making them obedient.

Whenever Claus set out to carry his toys to the little ones an Awgwa, who had been set to watch his movements, sprang upon him and snatched the toys from his grasp.  And the children were no more disappointed than was Claus when he was obliged to return home disconsolate.  Still he persevered, and made many toys for his little friends and started with them for the villages.  And always the Awgwas robbed him as soon as he had left the Valley.

They threw the stolen playthings into one of their lonely caverns, and quite a heap of toys accumulated before Claus became discouraged and gave up all attempts to leave the Valley.  Then children began coming to him, since they found he did not go to them; but the wicked Awgwas flew around them and caused their steps to stray and the paths to become crooked, so never a little one could find a way into the Laughing Valley.

Lonely days now fell upon Claus, for he was denied the pleasure of bringing happiness to the children whom he had learned to love.  Yet he bore up bravely, for he thought surely the time would come when the Awgwas would abandon their evil designs to injure him.

He devoted all his hours to toy-making, and when one plaything had been completed he stood it on a shelf he had built for that purpose.  When the shelf became filled with rows of toys he made another one, and filled that also.  So that in time he had many shelves filled with gay and beautiful toys representing horses, dogs, cats, elephants, lambs, rabbits and deer, as well as pretty dolls of all sizes and balls and marbles of baked clay painted in gay colors.

Often, as he glanced at this array of childish treasures, the heart of good old Claus became sad, so greatly did he long to carry the toys to his children.  And at last, because he could bear it no longer, he ventured to go to the great Ak, to whom he told the story of his persecution by the Awgwas, and begged the Master Woodsman to assist him.

7.  The Great Battle Between Good and Evil

Ak listened gravely to the recital of Claus, stroking his beard the while with the slow, graceful motion that betokened deep thought.  He nodded approvingly when Claus told how the Knooks and Fairies had saved him from death, and frowned when he heard how the Awgwas had stolen the children’s toys.  At last he said: 

“From the beginning I have approved the work you are doing among the children of men, and it annoys me that your good deeds should be thwarted by the Awgwas.  We immortals have no connection whatever with the evil creatures who have attacked you.  Always have we avoided them, and they, in turn, have hitherto taken care not to cross our pathway.  But in this matter I find they have interfered with one of our friends, and I will ask them to abandon their persécutions, as you are under our protection.”

Claus thanked the Master Woodsman most gratefully and returned to his Valley, while Ak, who never delayed carrying out his promises, at once traveled to the mountains of the Awgwas.

There, standing on the bare rocks, he called on the King and his people to appear.

Instantly the place was filled with throngs of the scowling Awgwas, and their King, perching himself on a point of rock, demanded fiercely: 

“Who dares call on us?”

“It is I, the Master Woodsman of the World,” responded Ak.

“Here are no forests for you to claim,” cried the King, angrily.  “We owe no allegiance to you, nor to any immortal!”

“That is true,” replied Ak, calmly.  “Yet you have ventured to interfere with the actions of Claus, who dwells in the Laughing Valley, and is under our protection.”

Many of the Awgwas began muttering at this speech, and their King turned threateningly on the Master Woodsman.

“You are set to rule the forests, but the plains and the valleys are ours!” he shouted.  “Keep to your own dark woods!  We will do as we please with Claus.”

“You shall not harm our friend in any way!” replied Ak.

“Shall we not?” asked the King, impudently.  “You will see!  Our powers are vastly superior to those of mortals, and fully as great as those of immortals.”

“It is your conceit that misleads you!” said Ak, sternly.  “You are a transient race, passing from life into nothingness.  We, who live forever, pity but despise you.  On earth you are scorned by all, and in Heaven you have no place!  Even the mortals, after their earth life, enter another existence for all time, and so are your superiors.  How then dare you, who are neither mortal nor immortal, refuse to obey my wish?”

The Awgwas sprang to their feet with menacing gestures, but their King motioned them back.

“Never before,” he cried to Ak, while his voice trembled with rage, “has an immortal declared himself the master of the Awgwas!  Never shall an immortal venture to interfere with our actions again!  For we will avenge your scornful words by killing your friend Claus within three days.  Nor you, nor all the immortals can save him from our wrath.  We defy your powers!  Begone, Master Woodsman of the World!  In the country of the Awgwas you have no place.”

“It is war!” declared Ak, with flashing eyes.

“It is war!” returned the King, savagely.  “In three days your friend will be dead.”

The Master turned away and came to his Forest of Burzee, where he called a meeting of the immortals and told them of the defiance of the Awgwas and their purpose to kill Claus within three days.

The little folk listened to him quietly.

“What shall we do?” asked Ak.

“These creatures are of no benefit to the world,” said the Prince of the Knooks; “we must destroy them.”

“Their lives are devoted only to evil deeds,” said the Prince of the Ryls.  “We must destroy them.”

“They have no conscience, and endeavor to make all mortals as bad as themselves,” said the Queen of the Fairies.  “We must destroy them.”

“They have defied the great Ak, and threaten the life of our adopted son,” said beautiful Queen Zurline.  “We must destroy them.”

The Master Woodsman smiled.

“You speak well,” said he.  “These Awgwas we know to be a powerful race, and they will fight desperately; yet the outcome is certain.  For we who live can never die, even though conquered by our enemies, while every Awgwa who is struck down is one foe the less to oppose us.  Prepare, then, for battle, and let us resolve to show no mercy to the wicked!”

Thus arose that terrible war between the immortals and the spirits of evil which is sung of in Fairyland to this very day.

The King Awgwa and his band determined to carry out the threat to destroy Claus.  They now hated him for two reasons:  he made children happy and was a friend of the Master Woodsman.  But since Ak’s visit they had reason to fear the opposition of the immortals, and they dreaded defeat.  So the King sent swift messengers to all parts of the world to summon every evil creature to his aid.

And on the third day after the declaration of war a mighty army was at the command of the King Awgwa.  There were three hundred Asiatic Dragons, breathing fire that consumed everything it touched.  These hated mankind and all good spirits.  And there were the three-eyed Giants of Tatary, a host in themselves, who liked nothing better than to fight.  And next came the Black Demons from Patalonia, with great spreading wings like those of a bat, which swept terror and misery through the world as they beat upon the air.  And joined to these were the Goozzle-Goblins, with long talons as sharp as swords, with which they clawed the flesh from their foes.  Finally, every mountain Awgwa in the world had come to participate in the great battle with the immortals.

The King Awgwa looked around upon this vast army and his heart beat high with wicked pride, for he believed he would surely triumph over his gentle enemies, who had never before been known to fight.  But the Master Woodsman had not been idle.  None of his people was used to warfare, yet now that they were called upon to face the hosts of evil they willingly prepared for the fray.

Ak had commanded them to assemble in the Laughing Valley, where Claus, ignorant of the terrible battle that was to be waged on his account, was quietly making his toys.

Soon the entire Valley, from hill to hill, was filled with the little immortals.  The Master Woodsman stood first, bearing a gleaming ax that shone like burnished silver.  Next came the Ryls, armed with sharp thorns from bramblebushes.  Then the Knooks, bearing the spears they used when they were forced to prod their savage beasts into submission.  The Fairies, dressed in white gauze with rainbow-hued wings, bore golden wands, and the Wood-nymphs, in their uniforms of oak-leaf green, carried switches from ash trees as weapons.

Loud laughed the Awgwa King when he beheld the size and the arms of his foes.  To be sure the mighty ax of the Woodsman was to be dreaded, but the sweet-faced Nymphs and pretty Fairies, the gentle Ryls and crooked Knooks were such harmless folk that he almost felt shame at having called such a terrible host to oppose them.

“Since these fools dare fight,” he said to the leader of the Tatary Giants, “I will overwhelm them with our evil powers!”

To begin the battle he poised a great stone in his left hand and cast it full against the sturdy form of the Master Woodsman, who turned it aside with his ax.  Then rushed the three-eyed Giants of Tatary upon the Knooks, and the Goozzle-Goblins upon the Ryls, and the firebreathing Dragons upon the sweet Fairies.  Because the Nymphs were Ak’s own people the band of Awgwas sought them out, thinking to overcome them with ease.

But it is the Law that while Evil, unopposed, may accomplish terrible deeds, the powers of Good can never be overthrown when opposed to Evil.  Well had it been for the King Awgwa had he known the Law!

His ignorance cost him his existence, for one flash of the ax borne by the Master Woodsman of the World cleft the wicked King in twain and rid the earth of the vilest creature it contained.

Greatly marveled the Tatary Giants when the spears of the little Knooks pierced their thick walls of flesh and sent them reeling to the ground with howls of agony.

Woe came upon the sharp-taloned Goblins when the thorns of the Ryls reached their savage hearts and let their life-blood sprinkle all the plain.  And afterward from every drop a thistle grew.

The Dragons paused astonished before the Fairy wands, from whence rushed a power that caused their fiery breaths to flow back on themselves so that they shriveled away and died.

As for the Awgwas, they had scant time to realize how they were destroyed, for the ash switches of the Nymphs bore a charm unknown to any Awgwa, and turned their foes into clods of earth at the slightest touch!

When Ak leaned upon his gleaming ax and turned to look over the field of battle he saw the few Giants who were able to run disappearing over the distant hills on their return to Tatary.  The Goblins had perished every one, as had the terrible Dragons, while all that remained of the wicked Awgwas was a great number of earthen hillocks dotting the plain.

And now the immortals melted from the Valley like dew at sunrise, to resume their duties in the Forest, while Ak walked slowly and thoughtfully to the house of Claus and entered.

“You have many toys ready for the children,” said the Woodsman, “and now you may carry them across the plain to the dwellings and the villages without fear.”

“Will not the Awgwas harm me?” asked Claus, eagerly.

“The Awgwas,” said Ak, “have perished!”

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.

8.  The First Journey with the Reindeer

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 rude 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.

9.  “Santa Claus!”

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.

10.  Christmas Eve

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.

Then he stood up and addressed the company as follows: 

“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 hoofbeats 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.

11.  How the First Stockings Were Hung by the Chimneys

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!”

Now it was on this same Christmas Eve that little Margot and her brother Dick and her cousins Ned and Sara, who were visiting at Margot’s house, came in from making a snow man, with their clothes damp, their mittens dripping and their shoes and stockings wet through and through.  They were not scolded, for Margot’s mother knew the snow was melting, but they were sent early to bed that their clothes might be hung over chairs to dry.  The shoes were placed on the red tiles of the hearth, where the heat from the hot embers would strike them, and the stockings were carefully hung in a row by the chimney, directly over the fireplace.  That was the reason Santa Claus noticed them when he came down the chimney that night and all the household were fast asleep.  He was in a tremendous hurry and seeing the stockings all belonged to children he quickly stuffed his toys into them and dashed up the chimney again, appearing on the roof so suddenly that the reindeer were astonished at his agility.

“I wish they would all hang up their stockings,” he thought, as he drove to the next chimney.  “It would save me a lot of time and I could then visit more children before daybreak.”

When Margot and Dick and Ned and Sara jumped out of bed next morning and ran downstairs to get their stockings from the fireplace they were filled with delight to find the toys from Santa Claus inside them.  In face, I think they found more presents in their stockings than any other children of that city had received, for Santa Claus was in a hurry and did not stop to count the toys.

Of course they told all their little friends about it, and of course every one of them decided to hang his own stockings by the fireplace the next Christmas Eve.  Even Bessie Blithesome, who made a visit to that city with her father, the great Lord of Lerd, heard the story from the children and hung her own pretty stockings by the chimney when she returned home at Christmas time.

On his next trip Santa Claus found so many stockings hung up in anticipation of his visit that he could fill them in a jiffy and be away again in half the time required to hunt the children up and place the toys by their bedsides.

The custom grew year after year, and has always been a great help to Santa Claus.  And, with so many children to visit, he surely needs all the help we are able to give him.

12.  The First Christmas Tree

Claus had always kept his promise to the Knooks by returning to the Laughing Valley by daybreak, but only the swiftness of his reindeer has enabled him to do this, for he travels over all the world.

He loved his work and he loved the brisk night ride on his sledge and the gay tinkle of the sleigh-bells.  On that first trip with the ten reindeer only Glossie and Flossie wore bells; but each year thereafter for eight years Claus carried presents to the children of the Gnome King, and that good-natured monarch gave him in return a string of bells at each visit, so that finally every one of the ten deer was supplied, and you may imagine what a merry tune the bells played as the sledge sped over the snow.

The children’s stockings were so long that it required a great many toys to fill them, and soon Claus found there were other things besides toys that children love.  So he sent some of the Fairies, who were always his good friends, into the Tropics, from whence they returned with great bags full of oranges and bananas which they had plucked from the trees.  And other Fairies flew to the wonderful Valley of Phunnyland, where delicious candies and bonbons grow thickly on the bushes, and returned laden with many boxes of sweetmeats for the little ones.  These things Santa Claus, on each Christmas Eve, placed in the long stockings, together with his toys, and the children were glad to get them, you may be sure.

There are also warm countries where there is no snow in winter, but Claus and his reindeer visited them as well as the colder climes, for there were little wheels inside the runners of his sledge which permitted it to run as smoothly over bare ground as on the snow.  And the children who lived in the warm countries learned to know the name of Santa Claus as well as those who lived nearer to the Laughing Valley.

Once, just as the reindeer were ready to start on their yearly trip, a Fairy came to Claus and told him of three little children who lived beneath a rude tent of skins on a broad plain where there were no trees whatever.  These poor babies were miserable and unhappy, for their parents were ignorant people who neglected them sadly.  Claus resolved to visit these children before he returned home, and during his ride he picked up the bushy top of a pine tree which the wind had broken off and placed it in his sledge.

It was nearly morning when the deer stopped before the lonely tent of skins where the poor children lay asleep.  Claus at once planted the bit of pine tree in the sand and stuck many candles on the branches.  Then he hung some of his prettiest toys on the tree, as well as several bags of candies.  It did not take long to do all this, for Santa Claus works quickly, and when all was ready he lighted the candles and, thrusting his head in at the opening of the tent, he shouted: 

“Merry Christmas, little ones!”

With that he leaped into his sledge and was out of sight before the children, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, could come out to see who had called them.

You can imagine the wonder and joy of those little ones, who had never in their lives known a real pleasure before, when they saw the tree, sparkling with lights that shone brilliant in the gray dawn and hung with toys enough to make them happy for years to come!  They joined hands and danced around the tree, shouting and laughing, until they were obliged to pause for breath.  And their parents, also, came out to look and wonder, and thereafter had more respect and consideration for their children, since Santa Claus had honored them with such beautiful gifts.

The idea of the Christmas tree pleased Claus, and so the following year he carried many of them in his sledge and set them up in the homes of poor people who seldom saw trees, and placed candles and toys on the branches.  Of course he could not carry enough trees in one load of all who wanted them, but in some homes the fathers were able to get trees and have them all ready for Santa Claus when he arrived; and these the good Claus always decorated as prettily as possible and hung with toys enough for all the children who came to see the tree lighted.

These novel ideas and the generous manner in which they were carried out made the children long for that one night in the year when their friend Santa Claus should visit them, and as such anticipation is very pleasant and comforting the little ones gleaned much happiness by wondering what would happen when Santa Claus next arrived.

Perhaps you remember that stern Baron Braun who once drove Claus from his castle and forbade him to visit his children?  Well, many years afterward, when the old Baron was dead and his son ruled in his place, the new Baron Braun came to the house of Claus with his train of knights and pages and henchmen and, dismounting from his charger, bared his head humbly before the friend of children.

“My father did not know your goodness and worth,” he said, “and therefore threatened to hang you from the castle walls.  But I have children of my own, who long for a visit from Santa Claus, and I have come to beg that you will favor them hereafter as you do other children.”

Claus was pleased with this speech, for Castle Braun was the only place he had never visited, and he gladly promised to bring presents to the Baron’s children the next Christmas Eve.

The Baron went away contented, and Claus kept his promise faithfully.

Thus did this man, through very goodness, conquer the hearts of all; and it is no wonder he was ever merry and gay, for there was no home in the wide world where he was not welcomed more royally than any king.