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Speaker 1: A kidnapped Santa Claus. Santa Claus lives in the Laughing Valley,

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where stands the big rambling castle in which his toys

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are manufactured. His workmen, selected from the rills, nooks, pixies

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and fairies, live with him, and every one is as

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busy as can be from one year's end to another.

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It is called the Laughing Valley because everything there is

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happy and gay. The brook chuckles to itself as it leaps,

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rollicking between its green banks. The wind whistles merrily in

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the trees, the sunbeams dance lightly over the soft grass,

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and the violets and wild flowers look smilingly up from

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their green nests. To laugh, one needs to be happy.

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To be happy, one needs to be content, And throughout

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the Laughing Valley of Santa Claus, contentment reigns supreme. On

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one side is the mighty forest of Burzee. At the

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other side stands the huge mountain that contains the caves

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of the days, and between them the valley lies smiling

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and peaceful. One would think that our good old Santa Claus,

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who devotes his days to making children happy, would have

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no enemies on all the earth, and as a matter

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of fact, for a long period of time he encountered

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nothing but love wherever he might go. But the daemons

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who live in the mountain caves grew to hate Santa

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Claus very much, and all for the simple reason that

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he made children happy. The caves of the Daemons are

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five in number. A broad pathway leads up to the

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first cave, which is a finely arched cavern at the

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foot of the mountain, the entrance being beautifully carved and decorated.

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In it resides the Daemon of Selfishness. Back of this

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is another cavern inhabited by the Daemon of Envy. The

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cave of the Damon of Hatred is next in order,

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and through this one passes to the home of the

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Daemon of Malice, situated in a dark and fearful cave

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in the very heart of the mountain. I do not

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know what lies beyond this. Some say they are terrible

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pitfalls leading to death and destruction, and this may very

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well be true. However, from each one of the four

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caves mentioned there is a small, narrow tunnel leading to

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the fifth cave, a cozy little room occupied by the

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Damon of Repentance and as the rocky floors of these

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passages are well worn by the tracks of passing feet,

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I judge that many wanderers in the caves of the

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daemons have escaped through the tunnels to the abode of

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the Daemon of Repentance, who is said to be a

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pleasant sort of fellow, who gladly opens for one a

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little door, admitting you into fresh air and sunshine again. Well,

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these daemons of the caves, thinking they had great cause

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to dislike old Santa Claus, held a meeting one day

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to discuss the matter. I am really getting lonesome, said

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the Damon of selfishness, For Santa Claus distribute so many

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pretty Christmas gifts to all the children that they become

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happy and generous through his example, and keep away from

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my cave. I'm having the same trouble, rejoined the Damon

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of envy. The little ones seem quite content with Santa Claus.

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And there are few, indeed, that I can coax to

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become envious. And that makes it bad for me, declared

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the damon of hatred. For if no children pass through

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the caves of selfishness and envy, none can get to

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my cavern or to mine, added the Daemon of Malice.

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For my part, said the Daemon of Repentance. It is

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easily seen that if children do not visit your caves,

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they have no need to visit mine, so that I

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am quite as neglected as you are. And all this

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because of this person they call Santa Claus, exclaimed the

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Daemon of envy. He is simply ruining our business, and

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something must be done at once. To this they readily agreed,

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But what to do was another and more difficult matter

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to settle. They knew that Santa Claus worked all through

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the year at his castle in the Laughing Valley, preparing

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the gifts he was to distribute on Christmas Eve, and

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at first they resolved to try and tempt him into

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their caves, that they might lead him on to the

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terrible pitfalls that ended in destruction. So the very next day,

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while Santa Claus was busily at work, surrounded by his

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little band of assistants, the Daemon of Selfishness came to

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him and said, these toys are wonderfully bright and pretty.

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Why do you not keep them for yourself? It is

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a pity to give them to those noisy boys and

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fretful girls who break and destroy them so quickly. Nonsense,

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cried the old gray beard, his bright eyes twinkling merrily

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as he turned toward the tempting daemon. The boys and

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girls are never so noisy and fretful after receiving my presents.

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And if I can make them happy for one day

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in the year, I am quite content. So the daemon

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went back to the others, who awaited him in their caves,

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and said, I've failed, for Santa Claus is not at

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all selfish. The following day, the daemon of Envy visited

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Santa Claus, said he the toy shops are full of

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playthings quite as pretty as those you are making. What

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a shame it is that they should interfere with your business.

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They make toys by machinery much quicker than you can

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make them by hand, and they sell them for money,

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while you get nothing at all for your work. But

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Santa Claus refused to be envious of the toy shops.

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I can supply the little ones, but once a year

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on Christmas Eve, he answered, for the children are many,

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and I am but one, And as my work is

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one of love and kindness, I would be ashamed to

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receive money from my little gifts. But throughout all the

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year the children must be amused in some way, and

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so the toy shops are able to bring much happiness

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to my little friends. I like the toy shops, and

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I am glad to see them prosper. In spite of

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the second rebuff, the daemon of hatred thought he would

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try to influence Santa Claus. So the next day he

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entered the busy workshop and said, good morning, Santa I

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have bad news for you. Then run away like a

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good fellow, answered Santa Claus. Bad news is something that

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should be kept secret and never told. You cannot escape this, however,

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declared the daemon. For in the world are a good

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many who do not believe in Santa Claus, and these

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you are bound to hate bitterly, since they have so

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wronged you. Oh stuff and rubbish, cried Santa Claus. And

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there are others who resent your making children happy, and

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who sneer at you and call you a foolish old

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rattle pate. You are quite right to hate such base slanderers,

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and you ought to be revenged upon them for their

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evil words. But I don't hate em, exclaimed Santa Claus. Positively.

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Such people do me no real harm, but merely render

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themselves and their children unhappy poor things. I'd much rather

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help them any day than injure them. Indeed, the daemons

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could not tempt Old Santa Claus in any way. On

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the contrary, he was shrewd enough to see that their

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object in visiting him was to make mischief and trouble.

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And his cheery laughter disconcerted the evil ones and showed

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them the folly of such an undertaking. So they abandoned

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honeyed words and determined to use force. It was well

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known that no harm can come to Santa Claus while

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he is in the Laughing Valley, for the fairies and

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rills and nooks all protect him. But on Christmas Eve

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he drives his reindeer out into the big world, carrying

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a sleigh load of toys and pretty gifts to the children.

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And this was the time and the occasion when his

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enemies had the best chance to injure him. So the

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damons laid their plans and awaited the arrival of Christmas Eve.

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The moon shone big and white in the sky, and

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the snow lay crisp and sparkling on the ground, as

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Santa Claus cracked his whip and sped away out of

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the valley into the great world beyond. The Rumy sleigh

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was packed full with huge sacks of toys, and as

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the reindeer dashed onward our day, jolly old Santa laughed

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and whistled and sang for very joy. For in all

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his merry life, this was the one day in the

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year when he was happiest, the day he lovingly bestowed

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the treasures of his workshop upon the little children. It

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would be a busy night for him, he well knew.

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As he whistled and shouted and cracked his whip again.

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He reviewed in mind all the towns and cities and

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farmhouses where he was expected, and figured that he had

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just enough presents to go around and make every child happy.

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The reindeer knew exactly what was expected of them, and

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dashed along so swiftly that their feet scarcely seemed to

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touch the snow covered ground. Suddenly, a strange thing happened.

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A rope shot through the moonlight, and a big noose

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that was in the end of it settled over the

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arms and body of Santa Claus and drew tight. Before

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he could resist or even cry out. He was jerked

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from the seat of the sleigh and tumbled head foremost

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into a snow bank, while the reindeer rushed onward with

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a load of toys and carried it quickly out of

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sight and sound. Such a surprising experience confused Old Santa

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for a moment, and when he had collected his senses,

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he found that the wicked damons had pulled him from

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the snow drift and bound him tightly with many coils

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of the stout rope. And then they carried the kidnapped

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Santa Claus away to their mountain, where they thrust the

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prisoner into a secret cave and chained him to the

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rocky wall so that he could not escape. Ha ha,

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laughed the damons, rubbing their hands together with cruel glee.

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What will the children do now, How they will cry

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and scold and storm when they find there are no

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toys in their stockings and no gifts on their Christmas trees.

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And what a lot of punishment they will receive from

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their parents, And how they will flock to our caves

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of selfishness and envy and hatred and malice. We have

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done a mighty clever thing we daemons of the caves.

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Now it so chanced that on this Christmas Eve the

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good Santa Claus had taken with him in his sleigh

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Nutter the Rile, Peter the Nook, Kilter the Pixie, and

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a small fairy named Whisk, his four favorite assistance. These

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little people he had often found very useful in helping

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him to distribute his gifts to the children. And when

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their master was so suddenly dragged from the sleigh, they

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were all snugly tucked underneath the seat, where the sharp

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wind could not reach them. The tiny immortals knew nothing

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of the capture of Santa Claus until some time after

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he had disappeared. But finally they missed his cheery voice,

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and as their master always sang or whistled on his journeys,

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the silence warned them that something was wrong. Little Whisk

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stuck out his head from underneath the seat and found

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Santa Claus gone and no one to direct the flight

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of the reindeer. Whoa, he called out, and the deer

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obediently slackened speed and came to a halt. Peter, Nutter,

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and Kilter all jumped upon the seat and looked back

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over the track made by the sleigh, but Santa Claus

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had been left miles and miles behind. What shall we do,

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asked whisk anxiously, all the mirth and mischief banished from

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his wee face by this great calamity. We must go

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back at once and find our master, said Nutter the rill,

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who thought and spoke with much deliberation. No, no, exclaimed

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Peter the Knook, who cross and crab though he was,

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might always be depended upon in an emergency. If we

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delay or go back, there will not be time to

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get the toys to the children before morning, and that

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would grieve Santa Claus more than anything else. It is

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certain that some wicked creatures have captured him, added Kilter thoughtfully,

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and their object must be to make the children unhappy.

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So our first duty is to get the toys distributed

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as carefully as if Santa Claus were himself present. Afterward

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we can search for our master and easily secure his freedom.

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This seemed such a good and sensible advice that the

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others at once resolved to adopt it. So Peter the

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Knook called to the reindeer, and the faithful animals again

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sprang forward and dashed over hill and valley, through forest

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and plain, until they came to the houses, wherein children

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lay sleeping and dreaming of the pretty gifts they would

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find on Christmas morning. The little immortals had set themselves

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a difficult task, for although they had assisted Santa Claus

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on many of his journeys, their master had always directed

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and guided them and told them exactly what he wished

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them to do. But now they had to distribute the

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toys according to their own judgment. And they did not

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understand children as well as did old Santa, so it

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is no wonder they made some laughable errors. Maamie Brown,

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who wanted a doll, got a drum instead, and a

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drum is of no use to a girl who loves dolls.

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And Charlie Smith, who delights to romp and play out

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of doors, and who wanted some new rubber boots to

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keep his feet dry, received a sewing box filled with

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colored worsteds and threads and needles, which made him so

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provoked that he thoughtlessly called our dear Santa Claus a fraud.

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Had there been many such mistakes, the daemons would have

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accomplished their evil purpose and made the children unhappy. But

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the little friends of the absent Santa Claus labored faithfully

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and intelligently to carry out their master's ideas, and they

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made fewer airs than might be expected under such unusual circumstances.

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And although they worked as swiftly as possible, day had

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begun to break before the toys and other presents were

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all distributed, so for the first time in many years,

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the reindeer trotted into the Laughing Valley on their return

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in broad daylight, with the brilliant sun peeping over the

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edge of the forest to prove they were far behind

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their accustomed hour. Having put the deer in the stable,

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the little folk began to wonder how they might rescue

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their master, and they realized they must discover, first of all,

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what had happened to him and where he was. So

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whisk the Fairy transported himself to the bower of the

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Fairy Queen, which was located deep in the heart of

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the forest of Burzee, and once there it did not

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take him long to find out all about the naughty

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daemons and how they had kidnapped the good Santa Claus

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to prevent his making children happy. The Fairy Queen also

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promised her assistance, and then, fortified by this powerful support,

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Whisk flew back to where Nutter and Peter and Kilter

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awaited him, and the four counseled together and laid plans

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to rescue their master from his enemies. It is possible

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that Santa Claus was not as merry as usual during

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the night that succeeded his capture, for although he had

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faith in the judgment of his little friends, he could

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not avoid a certain amount of worry, and an anxious

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look would creep at times into his kind old eyes

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as he thought of the disappointment that might await his

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dear little children. And the daemons who guarded him by

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turns one after another did not neglect to taunt him

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with contemptuous words in his helpless condition. When Christmas Day dawned,

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the daemon of Malice was guarding the prisoner, and his

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tongue was sharper than that of any of the others.

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The children are waking up, Santa, he cried. They are

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waking up to find their stockings empty. Ho ho, how

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they will quarrel and wail and stamp their feet in anger.

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Our caves will be full today, Old Santa. Our caves

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are sure to be full. But to this, as to

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other like taunts, Santa Claus answered nothing. He was much

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grieved by his capture, it is true, but his courage

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did not forsake him, and, finding that the prisoner would

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not reply to his jeers, the Daemon of Malice presently

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went away and sent the Daemon of Repentance to take

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his place. This last personage was not so disagreeable as

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the others. He had gentle and refined features, and his

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voice was soft and pleasant in tone. My brother Damons

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do not trust me over much, said he as he

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entered the cavern. But it is morning now and the

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mischief is done. You cannot visit the children again for

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another year, that is true, answered Santa Claus, almost cheerfully.

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Christmas Eve is past, and for the first time in

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centuries I have not visited my children. The little ones

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will be greatly disappointed, murmured the Damon of Repentance, almost regretfully.

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But that cannot be helped now. Their grief is likely

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to make the children selfish and envious and hateful. And

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if they come to the caves of the Damons to day,

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I shall get a chance to lead some of them

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to my Cave of repentance. Do you never repent yourself,

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asked Santa Claus curiously. Oh, yes, indeed, answered the daemon,

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I am even now repenting that I assisted in your capture.

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Of course, it is too late to remedy the evil

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that has been done. But repentance, you know, can come

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only after an evil thought deed, For in the beginning

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there is nothing to repent of. So I understand, said

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Santa Claus, those who avoid evil need never visit your cave,

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as a rule. That is true, replied the damon. Yet

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you who have done no evil, are about to visit

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my cave at once, for to prove that I sincerely

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regret my share in your capture, I am going to

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permit you to escape. This speech greatly surprised the prisoner,

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until he reflected that it was just what might be

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expected of the Daemon of Repentance. The fellow at once

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busied himself untying the knots that bound Santa Claus and

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unlocking the chains that fastened him to the wall. Then

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he led the way through a long tunnel until they

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both emerged in the Cave of Repentance. I hope you

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will forgive me said the damon pleadingly. I'm really not

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a bad person, you know, and I believe I accomplish

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a great deal of good in the world with this.

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He opened a back door and let in a flood

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of sunshine, and Santa Claus sniffed the fresh air. Great,

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I bear no malice, he said to the damon in

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a gentle voice. I am sure the world would be

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a dreary place without you. So good morning and a

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merry Christmas to you. With these words, he stepped out

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to greet the bright morning, and a moment later he

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was trudging along, whistling softly to himself, on his way

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to his home in the Laughing Valley. Marching over the

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snow toward the mountain was a vast army made up

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of the most curious creatures imaginable. There were numberless nooks

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from the forest, as rough and crooked in appearance as

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the gnarled branches of the trees they ministered to, and

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there were dainty rills from the fields, each one bearing

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the emblem of the flower or plant it guarded. Behind

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these were many ranks of pixies, gnomes, and nymphs, and

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in the rear a thousand beautiful fairies floated along in

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gorgeous array. This wonderful army was led by Whisk, Peter, Nutter,

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and Kilter, who had assembled it to rescue Santa Claus

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from kept activity and to punish the daemons who had

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dared to take him away from his beloved children. And

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although they looked so bright and peaceful, the little immortals

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were armed with powers that would be very terrible to

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those who had incurred their anger. Woe to the daemons

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of the caves if this mighty army of vengeance ever

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met them. But lo coming to meet his loyal friends,

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appeared the imposing form of Santa Claus, his white beard

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floating in the breeze, and his bright eyes sparkling with

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pleasure at this proof of the love and veneration he

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had inspired in the hearts of the most powerful creatures

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in existence. And while they clustered around him and danced

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with glee at his safe return, he gave them earnest

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thanks for their support. But Whisk and Nutter, and Peter

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and Kilter he embraced affectionately. It is useless to pursue

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the damons, said Santa Claus to the army, they have

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their place in the world and can never be destroyed.

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But that is a great pity. Nevertheless, he continued musingly.

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So the the fairies and nooks and pixies and rylls

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all escorted the good man to his castle, and there

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left him to talk over the events of the night

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with his little assistants. Whizk had already rendered himself invisible

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and flown through the big world to see how the

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children were getting along on this bright Christmas morning, and

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by the time he returned, Peter had finished telling Santa

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Claus of how they had distributed the toys. We really

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did very well, cried the fairy in a pleased voice,

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for I found little unhappiness among the children this morning.

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Still you must not get captured again, my dear master,

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for we might not be so fortunate another time in

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carrying out your ideas. He then related the mistakes that

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had been made and which he had not discovered until

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his tour of inspection, and Santa Claus at once sent

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him with rubber boots for Charlie Smith and a doll

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for Maimie Brown, so that even those two disappointed ones

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became happy. As for the wicked Daemons of the Caves.

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They were filled with anger and chagrin when they found

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that their clever capture of Santa Claus had come to naught. Indeed,

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no one on that Christmas Day appeared to be at

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all selfish, or envious or hateful. And realizing that while

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the children's saint had so many powerful friends, it was

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folly to oppose him, the daemons never again attempted to

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interfere with his journeys. On Christmas Eve and of a

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captured Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum