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.