Speaker 1: A kidnapped Santa Claus. Santa Claus lives in the Laughing Valley,
where stands the big rambling castle in which his toys
are manufactured. His workmen, selected from the rills, nooks, pixies
and fairies, live with him, and every one is as
busy as can be from one year's end to another.
It is called the Laughing Valley because everything there is
happy and gay. The brook chuckles to itself as it leaps,
rollicking between its green banks. The wind whistles merrily in
the trees, the sunbeams dance lightly over the soft grass,
and the violets and wild flowers look smilingly up from
their green nests. To laugh, one needs to be happy.
To be happy, one needs to be content, And throughout
the Laughing Valley of Santa Claus, contentment reigns supreme. On
one side is the mighty forest of Burzee. At the
other side stands the huge mountain that contains the caves
of the days, and between them the valley lies smiling
and peaceful. One would think that our good old Santa Claus,
who devotes his days to making children happy, would have
no enemies on all the earth, and as a matter
of fact, for a long period of time he encountered
nothing but love wherever he might go. But the daemons
who live in the mountain caves grew to hate Santa
Claus very much, and all for the simple reason that
he made children happy. The caves of the Daemons are
five in number. A broad pathway leads up to the
first cave, which is a finely arched cavern at the
foot of the mountain, the entrance being beautifully carved and decorated.
In it resides the Daemon of Selfishness. Back of this
is another cavern inhabited by the Daemon of Envy. The
cave of the Damon of Hatred is next in order,
and through this one passes to the home of the
Daemon of Malice, situated in a dark and fearful cave
in the very heart of the mountain. I do not
know what lies beyond this. Some say they are terrible
pitfalls leading to death and destruction, and this may very
well be true. However, from each one of the four
caves mentioned there is a small, narrow tunnel leading to
the fifth cave, a cozy little room occupied by the
Damon of Repentance and as the rocky floors of these
passages are well worn by the tracks of passing feet,
I judge that many wanderers in the caves of the
daemons have escaped through the tunnels to the abode of
the Daemon of Repentance, who is said to be a
pleasant sort of fellow, who gladly opens for one a
little door, admitting you into fresh air and sunshine again. Well,
these daemons of the caves, thinking they had great cause
to dislike old Santa Claus, held a meeting one day
to discuss the matter. I am really getting lonesome, said
the Damon of selfishness, For Santa Claus distribute so many
pretty Christmas gifts to all the children that they become
happy and generous through his example, and keep away from
my cave. I'm having the same trouble, rejoined the Damon
of envy. The little ones seem quite content with Santa Claus.
And there are few, indeed, that I can coax to
become envious. And that makes it bad for me, declared
the damon of hatred. For if no children pass through
the caves of selfishness and envy, none can get to
my cavern or to mine, added the Daemon of Malice.
For my part, said the Daemon of Repentance. It is
easily seen that if children do not visit your caves,
they have no need to visit mine, so that I
am quite as neglected as you are. And all this
because of this person they call Santa Claus, exclaimed the
Daemon of envy. He is simply ruining our business, and
something must be done at once. To this they readily agreed,
But what to do was another and more difficult matter
to settle. They knew that Santa Claus worked all through
the year at his castle in the Laughing Valley, preparing
the gifts he was to distribute on Christmas Eve, and
at first they resolved to try and tempt him into
their caves, that they might lead him on to the
terrible pitfalls that ended in destruction. So the very next day,
while Santa Claus was busily at work, surrounded by his
little band of assistants, the Daemon of Selfishness came to
him and said, these toys are wonderfully bright and pretty.
Why do you not keep them for yourself? It is
a pity to give them to those noisy boys and
fretful girls who break and destroy them so quickly. Nonsense,
cried the old gray beard, his bright eyes twinkling merrily
as he turned toward the tempting daemon. The boys and
girls are never so noisy and fretful after receiving my presents.
And if I can make them happy for one day
in the year, I am quite content. So the daemon
went back to the others, who awaited him in their caves,
and said, I've failed, for Santa Claus is not at
all selfish. The following day, the daemon of Envy visited
Santa Claus, said he the toy shops are full of
playthings quite as pretty as those you are making. What
a shame it is that they should interfere with your business.
They make toys by machinery much quicker than you can
make them by hand, and they sell them for money,
while you get nothing at all for your work. But
Santa Claus refused to be envious of the toy shops.
I can supply the little ones, but once a year
on Christmas Eve, he answered, for the children are many,
and I am but one, And as my work is
one of love and kindness, I would be ashamed to
receive money from my little gifts. But throughout all the
year the children must be amused in some way, and
so the toy shops are able to bring much happiness
to my little friends. I like the toy shops, and
I am glad to see them prosper. In spite of
the second rebuff, the daemon of hatred thought he would
try to influence Santa Claus. So the next day he
entered the busy workshop and said, good morning, Santa I
have bad news for you. Then run away like a
good fellow, answered Santa Claus. Bad news is something that
should be kept secret and never told. You cannot escape this, however,
declared the daemon. For in the world are a good
many who do not believe in Santa Claus, and these
you are bound to hate bitterly, since they have so
wronged you. Oh stuff and rubbish, cried Santa Claus. And
there are others who resent your making children happy, and
who sneer at you and call you a foolish old
rattle pate. You are quite right to hate such base slanderers,
and you ought to be revenged upon them for their
evil words. But I don't hate em, exclaimed Santa Claus. Positively.
Such people do me no real harm, but merely render
themselves and their children unhappy poor things. I'd much rather
help them any day than injure them. Indeed, the daemons
could not tempt Old Santa Claus in any way. On
the contrary, he was shrewd enough to see that their
object in visiting him was to make mischief and trouble.
And his cheery laughter disconcerted the evil ones and showed
them the folly of such an undertaking. So they abandoned
honeyed words and determined to use force. It was well
known that no harm can come to Santa Claus while
he is in the Laughing Valley, for the fairies and
rills and nooks all protect him. But on Christmas Eve
he drives his reindeer out into the big world, carrying
a sleigh load of toys and pretty gifts to the children.
And this was the time and the occasion when his
enemies had the best chance to injure him. So the
damons laid their plans and awaited the arrival of Christmas Eve.
The moon shone big and white in the sky, and
the snow lay crisp and sparkling on the ground, as
Santa Claus cracked his whip and sped away out of
the valley into the great world beyond. The Rumy sleigh
was packed full with huge sacks of toys, and as
the reindeer dashed onward our day, jolly old Santa laughed
and whistled and sang for very joy. For in all
his merry life, this was the one day in the
year when he was happiest, the day he lovingly bestowed
the treasures of his workshop upon the little children. It
would be a busy night for him, he well knew.
As he whistled and shouted and cracked his whip again.
He reviewed in mind all the towns and cities and
farmhouses where he was expected, and figured that he had
just enough presents to go around and make every child happy.
The reindeer knew exactly what was expected of them, and
dashed along so swiftly that their feet scarcely seemed to
touch the snow covered ground. Suddenly, a strange thing happened.
A rope shot through the moonlight, and a big noose
that was in the end of it settled over the
arms and body of Santa Claus and drew tight. Before
he could resist or even cry out. He was jerked
from the seat of the sleigh and tumbled head foremost
into a snow bank, while the reindeer rushed onward with
a load of toys and carried it quickly out of
sight and sound. Such a surprising experience confused Old Santa
for a moment, and when he had collected his senses,
he found that the wicked damons had pulled him from
the snow drift and bound him tightly with many coils
of the stout rope. And then they carried the kidnapped
Santa Claus away to their mountain, where they thrust the
prisoner into a secret cave and chained him to the
rocky wall so that he could not escape. Ha ha,
laughed the damons, rubbing their hands together with cruel glee.
What will the children do now, How they will cry
and scold and storm when they find there are no
toys in their stockings and no gifts on their Christmas trees.
And what a lot of punishment they will receive from
their parents, And how they will flock to our caves
of selfishness and envy and hatred and malice. We have
done a mighty clever thing we daemons of the caves.
Now it so chanced that on this Christmas Eve the
good Santa Claus had taken with him in his sleigh
Nutter the Rile, Peter the Nook, Kilter the Pixie, and
a small fairy named Whisk, his four favorite assistance. These
little people he had often found very useful in helping
him to distribute his gifts to the children. And when
their master was so suddenly dragged from the sleigh, they
were all snugly tucked underneath the seat, where the sharp
wind could not reach them. The tiny immortals knew nothing
of the capture of Santa Claus until some time after
he had disappeared. But finally they missed his cheery voice,
and as their master always sang or whistled on his journeys,
the silence warned them that something was wrong. Little Whisk
stuck out his head from underneath the seat and found
Santa Claus gone and no one to direct the flight
of the reindeer. Whoa, he called out, and the deer
obediently slackened speed and came to a halt. Peter, Nutter,
and Kilter all jumped upon the seat and looked back
over the track made by the sleigh, but Santa Claus
had been left miles and miles behind. What shall we do,
asked whisk anxiously, all the mirth and mischief banished from
his wee face by this great calamity. We must go
back at once and find our master, said Nutter the rill,
who thought and spoke with much deliberation. No, no, exclaimed
Peter the Knook, who cross and crab though he was,
might always be depended upon in an emergency. If we
delay or go back, there will not be time to
get the toys to the children before morning, and that
would grieve Santa Claus more than anything else. It is
certain that some wicked creatures have captured him, added Kilter thoughtfully,
and their object must be to make the children unhappy.
So our first duty is to get the toys distributed
as carefully as if Santa Claus were himself present. Afterward
we can search for our master and easily secure his freedom.
This seemed such a good and sensible advice that the
others at once resolved to adopt it. So Peter the
Knook called to the reindeer, and the faithful animals again
sprang forward and dashed over hill and valley, through forest
and plain, until they came to the houses, wherein children
lay sleeping and dreaming of the pretty gifts they would
find on Christmas morning. The little immortals had set themselves
a difficult task, for although they had assisted Santa Claus
on many of his journeys, their master had always directed
and guided them and told them exactly what he wished
them to do. But now they had to distribute the
toys according to their own judgment. And they did not
understand children as well as did old Santa, so it
is no wonder they made some laughable errors. Maamie Brown,
who wanted a doll, got a drum instead, and a
drum is of no use to a girl who loves dolls.
And Charlie Smith, who delights to romp and play out
of doors, and who wanted some new rubber boots to
keep his feet dry, received a sewing box filled with
colored worsteds and threads and needles, which made him so
provoked that he thoughtlessly called our dear Santa Claus a fraud.
Had there been many such mistakes, the daemons would have
accomplished their evil purpose and made the children unhappy. But
the little friends of the absent Santa Claus labored faithfully
and intelligently to carry out their master's ideas, and they
made fewer airs than might be expected under such unusual circumstances.
And although they worked as swiftly as possible, day had
begun to break before the toys and other presents were
all distributed, so for the first time in many years,
the reindeer trotted into the Laughing Valley on their return
in broad daylight, with the brilliant sun peeping over the
edge of the forest to prove they were far behind
their accustomed hour. Having put the deer in the stable,
the little folk began to wonder how they might rescue
their master, and they realized they must discover, first of all,
what had happened to him and where he was. So
whisk the Fairy transported himself to the bower of the
Fairy Queen, which was located deep in the heart of
the forest of Burzee, and once there it did not
take him long to find out all about the naughty
daemons and how they had kidnapped the good Santa Claus
to prevent his making children happy. The Fairy Queen also
promised her assistance, and then, fortified by this powerful support,
Whisk flew back to where Nutter and Peter and Kilter
awaited him, and the four counseled together and laid plans
to rescue their master from his enemies. It is possible
that Santa Claus was not as merry as usual during
the night that succeeded his capture, for although he had
faith in the judgment of his little friends, he could
not avoid a certain amount of worry, and an anxious
look would creep at times into his kind old eyes
as he thought of the disappointment that might await his
dear little children. And the daemons who guarded him by
turns one after another did not neglect to taunt him
with contemptuous words in his helpless condition. When Christmas Day dawned,
the daemon of Malice was guarding the prisoner, and his
tongue was sharper than that of any of the others.
The children are waking up, Santa, he cried. They are
waking up to find their stockings empty. Ho ho, how
they will quarrel and wail and stamp their feet in anger.
Our caves will be full today, Old Santa. Our caves
are sure to be full. But to this, as to
other like taunts, Santa Claus answered nothing. He was much
grieved by his capture, it is true, but his courage
did not forsake him, and, finding that the prisoner would
not reply to his jeers, the Daemon of Malice presently
went away and sent the Daemon of Repentance to take
his place. This last personage was not so disagreeable as
the others. He had gentle and refined features, and his
voice was soft and pleasant in tone. My brother Damons
do not trust me over much, said he as he
entered the cavern. But it is morning now and the
mischief is done. You cannot visit the children again for
another year, that is true, answered Santa Claus, almost cheerfully.
Christmas Eve is past, and for the first time in
centuries I have not visited my children. The little ones
will be greatly disappointed, murmured the Damon of Repentance, almost regretfully.
But that cannot be helped now. Their grief is likely
to make the children selfish and envious and hateful. And
if they come to the caves of the Damons to day,
I shall get a chance to lead some of them
to my Cave of repentance. Do you never repent yourself,
asked Santa Claus curiously. Oh, yes, indeed, answered the daemon,
I am even now repenting that I assisted in your capture.
Of course, it is too late to remedy the evil
that has been done. But repentance, you know, can come
only after an evil thought deed, For in the beginning
there is nothing to repent of. So I understand, said
Santa Claus, those who avoid evil need never visit your cave,
as a rule. That is true, replied the damon. Yet
you who have done no evil, are about to visit
my cave at once, for to prove that I sincerely
regret my share in your capture, I am going to
permit you to escape. This speech greatly surprised the prisoner,
until he reflected that it was just what might be
expected of the Daemon of Repentance. The fellow at once
busied himself untying the knots that bound Santa Claus and
unlocking the chains that fastened him to the wall. Then
he led the way through a long tunnel until they
both emerged in the Cave of Repentance. I hope you
will forgive me said the damon pleadingly. I'm really not
a bad person, you know, and I believe I accomplish
a great deal of good in the world with this.
He opened a back door and let in a flood
of sunshine, and Santa Claus sniffed the fresh air. Great,
I bear no malice, he said to the damon in
a gentle voice. I am sure the world would be
a dreary place without you. So good morning and a
merry Christmas to you. With these words, he stepped out
to greet the bright morning, and a moment later he
was trudging along, whistling softly to himself, on his way
to his home in the Laughing Valley. Marching over the
snow toward the mountain was a vast army made up
of the most curious creatures imaginable. There were numberless nooks
from the forest, as rough and crooked in appearance as
the gnarled branches of the trees they ministered to, and
there were dainty rills from the fields, each one bearing
the emblem of the flower or plant it guarded. Behind
these were many ranks of pixies, gnomes, and nymphs, and
in the rear a thousand beautiful fairies floated along in
gorgeous array. This wonderful army was led by Whisk, Peter, Nutter,
and Kilter, who had assembled it to rescue Santa Claus
from kept activity and to punish the daemons who had
dared to take him away from his beloved children. And
although they looked so bright and peaceful, the little immortals
were armed with powers that would be very terrible to
those who had incurred their anger. Woe to the daemons
of the caves if this mighty army of vengeance ever
met them. But lo coming to meet his loyal friends,
appeared the imposing form of Santa Claus, his white beard
floating in the breeze, and his bright eyes sparkling with
pleasure at this proof of the love and veneration he
had inspired in the hearts of the most powerful creatures
in existence. And while they clustered around him and danced
with glee at his safe return, he gave them earnest
thanks for their support. But Whisk and Nutter, and Peter
and Kilter he embraced affectionately. It is useless to pursue
the damons, said Santa Claus to the army, they have
their place in the world and can never be destroyed.
But that is a great pity. Nevertheless, he continued musingly.
So the the fairies and nooks and pixies and rylls
all escorted the good man to his castle, and there
left him to talk over the events of the night
with his little assistants. Whizk had already rendered himself invisible
and flown through the big world to see how the
children were getting along on this bright Christmas morning, and
by the time he returned, Peter had finished telling Santa
Claus of how they had distributed the toys. We really
did very well, cried the fairy in a pleased voice,
for I found little unhappiness among the children this morning.
Still you must not get captured again, my dear master,
for we might not be so fortunate another time in
carrying out your ideas. He then related the mistakes that
had been made and which he had not discovered until
his tour of inspection, and Santa Claus at once sent
him with rubber boots for Charlie Smith and a doll
for Maimie Brown, so that even those two disappointed ones
became happy. As for the wicked Daemons of the Caves.
They were filled with anger and chagrin when they found
that their clever capture of Santa Claus had come to naught. Indeed,
no one on that Christmas Day appeared to be at
all selfish, or envious or hateful. And realizing that while
the children's saint had so many powerful friends, it was
folly to oppose him, the daemons never again attempted to
interfere with his journeys. On Christmas Eve and of a
captured Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum