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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--
excited. Ev'ry drop, delighted, Turns to spray in merry play As we tumble
on our way!"
All are too
Next Claus searched for roots to eat, while the daffodils turned their little eyes
up to him laughingly and lisped their dainty song:
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