The Santa Claus Stories

by L. Frank Baum

  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 return to Burzee by daybreak the next morning.

  “That is not a very long time,” said Flossie; “but we are swift and strong, and if we get started by this evening we can travel many miles during the night.”

  Claus decided to make the attempt, so he hurried on his preparations as fast as possible. After a time he fastened the collars around the necks of his steeds and harnessed them to his rude sledge. Then he placed a stool on the little platform, to serve as a seat, and filled a sack with his prettiest toys.

  “How do you intend to guide us?” asked Glossie. “We have never been out of the Forest before, except to visit your house, so we shall not know the way.”

  Claus thought about that for a moment. Then he brought more cords and fastened two of them to the spreading antlers of each deer, one on the right and the other on the left.

  “Those will be my reins,” said Claus, “and when I pull them to the right or to the left you must go in that direction. If I do not pull the reins at all you may go straight ahead.”

  “Very well,” answered Glossie and Flossie; and then they asked: “Are you ready?”

  Claus seated himself upon the stool, placed the sack of toys at his feet, and then gathered up the reins.

  “All ready!” he shouted; “away we go!”

  The deer leaned forward, lifted their slender limbs, and the next moment away flew the sledge over the frozen snow. The swiftness of the motion surprised Claus, for in a few strides they were across the Valley and gliding over the broad plain beyond.

  The day had melted into evening by the time they started; for, swiftly as Claus had worked, many hours had been consumed in making his preparations. But the moon shone brightly to light their way, and Claus soon decided it was just as pleasant to travel by night as by day.

  The deer liked it better; for, although they wished to see something of the world, they were timid about meeting men, and now all the dwellers in the towns and farmhouses were sound asleep and could not see them.

  Away and away they sped, on and on over the hills and through the valleys and across the plains until they reached a village where Claus had never been before.

  Here he called on them to stop, and they immediately obeyed. But a new difficulty now presented itself, for the people had locked their doors when they went to bed, and Claus found he could not enter the houses to leave his toys.

  “I am afraid, my friends, we have made our journey for nothing,” said he, “for I shall be obliged to carry my playthings back home again without giving them to the children of this village.”

  “What’s the matter?” asked Flossie.

  “The doors are locked,” answered Claus, “and I can not get in.”

  Glossie looked around at the houses. The snow was quite deep in that village, and just before them was a roof only a few feet above the sledge. A broad chimney, which seemed to Glossie big enough to admit Claus, was at the peak of the roof.

  “Why don’t you climb down that chimney?” asked Glossie.

  Claus looked at it.

  “That would be easy enough if I were on top of the roof,” he answered.

  “Then hold fast and we will take you there,” said the deer, and they gave one bound to the roof and landed beside the big chimney.

  “Good!” cried Claus, well pleased, and he slung the pack of toys over his shoulder and got into the chimney.

  There was plenty of soot on the bricks, but he did not mind that, and by placing his hands and knees against the sides he crept downward until he had reached the fireplace. Leaping lightly over the smoldering coals he found himself in a large sitting-room, where a dim light was burning.

  From this room two doorways led into smaller chambers. In one a woman lay asleep, with a baby beside her in a crib.

  Claus laughed, but he did not laugh aloud for fear of waking the baby. Then he slipped a big doll from his pack and laid it in the crib. The little one smiled, as if it dreamed of the pretty plaything it was to find on the morrow, and Claus crept softly from the room and entered at the other doorway.

  Here were two boys, fast asleep with their arms around each other’s neck. Claus gazed at them lovingly a moment and then placed upon the bed a drum, two horns and a wooden elephant.

  He did not linger, now that his work in this house was done, but climbed the chimney again and seated himself on his sledge.

  “Can you find another chimney?” he asked the reindeer.

  “Easily enough,” replied Glossie and Flossie.

  Down to the edge of the roof they raced, and then, without pausing, leaped through the air to the top of the next building, where a huge, old-fashioned chimney stood.

  “Don’t be so long, this time,” called Flossie, “or we shall never get back to the Forest by daybreak.”

  Claus made a trip down this chimney also and found five children sleeping in the house, all of whom were quickly supplied with toys.

  When he returned the deer sprang to the next roof, but on descending the chimney Claus found no children there at all. That was not often the case in this village, however, so he lost less time than you might suppose in visiting the dreary homes where there were no little ones.

  When he had climbed down the chimneys of all the houses in that village, and had left a toy for every sleeping child, Claus found that his great sack was not yet half emptied.

  “Onward, friends!” he called to the deer; “we must seek another village.”

  So away they dashed, although it was long past midnight, and in a surprisingly short time they came to a large city, the largest Claus had ever visited since he began to make toys. But, nothing daunted by the throng of houses, he set to work at once and his beautiful steeds carried him rapidly from one roof to another, only the highest being beyond the leaps of the agile deer.

  At last the supply of toys was exhausted and Claus seated himself in the sledge, with the empty sack at his feet, and turned the heads of Glossie and Flossie toward home.

  Presently Flossie asked:

  “What is that gray streak in the sky?”

  “It is the coming dawn of day,” answered Claus, surprised to find that it was so late.

  “Good gracious!” exclaimed Glossie; “then we shall not be home by daybreak, and the Knooks will punish us and never let us come again.”

  “We must race for the Laughing Valley and make our best speed,” returned Flossie; “so hold fast, friend Claus!”

  Claus held fast and the next moment was flying so swiftly over the snow that he could not see the trees as they whirled past. Up hill and down dale, swift as an arrow shot from a bow they dashed, and Claus shut his eyes to keep the wind out of them and left the deer to find their own way.

  It seemed to him they were plunging through space, but he was not at all afraid. The Knooks were severe masters, and must be obeyed at all hazards, and the gray streak in the sky was growing brighter every moment.

  Finally the sledge came to a sudden stop and Claus, who was taken unawares, tumbled from his seat into a snowdrift. As he picked himself up he heard the deer crying:

  “Quick, friend, quick! Cut away our harness!”

  He drew his knife and rapidly severed the cords, and then he wiped the moisture from his eyes and looked around him.

  The sledge had come to a stop in the Laughing Valley, only a few feet, he found, from his own door. In the East the day was breaking, and turning to the edge of Burzee he saw Glossie and Flossie just disappearing in the Forest.

  Claus thought that none of the children would ever know where the toys came from which they found by their bedsides when th
ey 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, there was but one reply to the question.

  “The good Claus must have been here, my darlings; for his are the only toys in all the world!”

  “But how did he get in?” asked the children.

  At this the fathers shook their heads, being themselves unable to understand how Claus had gained admittance to their homes; but the mothers, watching the glad faces of their dear ones, whispered that the good Claus was no mortal man but assuredly a Saint, and they piously blessed his name for the happiness he had bestowed upon their children.

  “A Saint,” said one, with bowed head, “has no need to unlock doors if it pleases him to enter our homes.”

  And, afterward, when a child was naughty or disobedient, its mother would say:

  “You must pray to the good Santa Claus for forgiveness. He does not like naughty children, and, unless you repent, he will bring you no more pretty toys.”

  But Santa Claus himself would not have approved this speech. He brought toys to the children because they were little and helpless, and because he loved them. He knew that the best of children were sometimes naughty, and that the naughty ones were often good. It is the way with children, the world over, and he would not have changed their natures had he possessed the power to do so.

  And that is how our Claus became Santa Claus. It is possible for any man, by good deeds, to enshrine himself as a Saint in the hearts of the people.

  The day that broke as Claus returned from his night ride with Glossie and Flossie brought to him a new trouble. Will Knook, the chief guardian of the deer, came to him, surly and ill-tempered, to complain that he had kept Glossie and Flossie beyond daybreak, in opposition to his orders.

  “Yet it could not have been very long after daybreak,” said Claus.

  “It was one minute after,” answered Will Knook, “and that is as bad as one hour. I shall set the stinging gnats on Glossie and Flossie, and they will thus suffer terribly for their disobedience.”

  “Don’t do that!” begged Claus. “It was my fault.”

  But Will Knook would listen to no excuses, and went away grumbling and growling in his ill-natured way.

  For this reason Claus entered the Forest to consult Necile about rescuing the good deer from punishment. To his delight he found his old friend, the Master Woodsman, seated in the circle of Nymphs.

  Ak listened to the story of the night journey to the children and of the great assistance the deer had been to Claus by drawing his sledge over the frozen snow.

  “I do not wish my friends to be punished if I can save them,” said the toy-maker, when he had finished the relation. “They were only one minute late, and they ran swifter than a bird flies to get home before daybreak.”

  Ak stroked his beard thoughtfully a moment, and then sent for the Prince of the Knooks, who rules all his people in Burzee, and also for the Queen of the Fairies and the Prince of the Ryls.

  When all had assembled Claus told his story again, at Ak’s command, and then the Master addressed the Prince of the Knooks, saying:

  “The good work that Claus is doing among mankind deserves the support of every honest immortal. Already he is called a Saint in some of the towns, and before long the name of Santa Claus will be lovingly known in every home that is blessed with children. Moreover, he is a son of our Forest, so we owe him our encouragement. You, Ruler of the Knooks, have known him these many years; am I not right in saying he deserves our friendship?”

  The Prince, crooked and sour of visage as all Knooks are, looked only upon the dead leaves at his feet and muttered: “You are the Master Woodsman of the World!”

  Ak smiled, but continued, in soft tones: “It seems that the deer which are guarded by your people can be of great assistance to Claus, and as they seem willing to draw his sledge I beg that you will permit him to use their services whenever he pleases.”

  The Prince did not reply, but tapped the curled point of his sandal with the tip of his spear, as if in thought.

  Then the Fairy Queen spoke to him in this way: “If you consent to Ak’s request I will see that no harm comes to your deer while they are away from the Forest.”

  And the Prince of the Ryls added: “For my part I will allow to every deer that assists Claus the privilege of eating my casa plants, which give strength, and my grawle plants, which give fleetness of foot, and my marbon plants, which give long life.”

  And the Queen of the Nymphs said: “The deer which draw the sledge of Claus will be permitted to bathe in the Forest pool of Nares, which will give them sleek coats and wonderful beauty.”

  The Prince of the Knooks, hearing these promises, shifted uneasily on his seat, for in his heart he hated to refuse a request of his fellow immortals, although they were asking an unusual favor at his hands, and the Knooks are unaccustomed to granting favors of any kind. Finally he turned to his servants and said:

  “Call Will Knook.”

  When surly Will came and heard the demands of the immortals he protested loudly against granting them.

  “Deer are deer,” said he, “and nothing but deer. Were they horses it would be right to harness them like horses. But no one harnesses deer because they are free, wild creatures, owing no service of any sort to mankind. It would degrade my deer to labor for Claus, who is only a man in spite of the friendship lavished on him by the immortals.”

  “You have heard,” said the Prince to Ak. “There is truth in what Will says.”

  “Call Glossie and Flossie,” returned the Master.

  The deer were brought to the conference and Ak asked them if they objected to drawing the sledge for Claus.

  “No, indeed!” replied Glossie; “we enjoyed the trip very much.”

  “And we tried to get home by daybreak,” added Flossie, “but were unfortunately a minute too late.”

  “A minute lost at daybreak doesn’t matter,” said Ak. “You are forgiven for that delay.”

  “Provided it does not happen again,” said the Prince of the Knooks, sternly.

  “And will you permit them to make another journey with me?” asked Claus, eagerly.

  The Prince reflected while he gazed at Will, who was scowling, and at the Master Woodsman, who was smiling.

  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 a
bout 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.