Welcome to Part 5 of The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum. We left Claus in a bit of trouble. Today we find out what happens with the wicket Awgwas and how he ends up with the name Santa Claus.
If you missed Part 4 of the series, you will find it here.
The Great Battle Between Good and Evil
Ak listened gravely to the recital of Claus, stroking his beard the while with the slow, graceful motion that betokened deep thought. He nodded approvingly when Claus told how the Knooks and Fairies had saved him from death, and frowned when he heard how the Awgwas had stolen the children’s toys. At last he said:
“From the beginning I have approved the work you are doing among the children of men, and it annoys me that your good deeds should be thwarted by the Awgwas. We immortals have no connection whatever with the evil creatures who have attacked you. Always have we avoided them, and they, in turn, have hitherto taken care not to cross our pathway. But in this matter I find they have interfered with one of our friends, and I will ask them to abandon their persecutions, as you are under our protection.”
Claus thanked the Master Woodsman most gratefully and returned to his Valley, while Ak, who never delayed carrying out his promises, at once traveled to the mountains of the Awgwas.
There, standing on the bare rocks, he called on the King and his people to appear.
Instantly the place was filled with throngs of the scowling Awgwas, and their King, perching himself on a point of rock, demanded fiercely:
“Who dares call on us?”
“It is I, the Master Woodsman of the World,” responded Ak.
“Here are no forests for you to claim,” cried the King, angrily. “We owe no allegiance to you, nor to any immortal!”
“That is true,” replied Ak, calmly. “Yet you have ventured to interfere with the actions of Claus, who dwells in the Laughing Valley, and is under our protection.”
Many of the Awgwas began muttering at this speech, and their King turned threateningly on the Master Woodsman.
“You are set to rule the forests, but the plains and the valleys are ours!” he shouted. “Keep to your own dark woods! We will do as we please with Claus.”
“You shall not harm our friend in any way!” replied Ak.
“Shall we not?” asked the King, impudently. “You will see! Our powers are vastly superior to those of mortals, and fully as great as those of immortals.”
“It is your conceit that misleads you!” said Ak, sternly. “You are a transient race, passing from life into nothingness. We, who live forever, pity but despise you. On earth you are scorned by all, and in Heaven you have no place! Even the mortals, after their earth life, enter another existence for all time, and so are your superiors. How then dare you, who are neither mortal nor immortal, refuse to obey my wish?”
The Awgwas sprang to their feet with menacing gestures, but their King motioned them back.
“Never before,” he cried to Ak, while his voice trembled with rage, “has an immortal declared himself the master of the Awgwas! Never shall an immortal venture to interfere with our actions again! For we will avenge your scornful words by killing your friend Claus within three days. Nor you, nor all the immortals can save him from our wrath. We defy your powers! Begone, Master Woodsman of the World! In the country of the Awgwas you have no place.”
“It is war!” declared Ak, with flashing eyes.
“It is war!” returned the King, savagely. “In three days your friend will be dead.”
The Master turned away and came to his Forest of Burzee, where he called a meeting of the immortals and told them of the defiance of the Awgwas and their purpose to kill Claus within three days.
The little folk listened to him quietly.
“What shall we do?” asked Ak.
“These creatures are of no benefit to the world,” said the Prince of the Knooks; “we must destroy them.”
“Their lives are devoted only to evil deeds,” said the Prince of the Ryls. “We must destroy them.”
“They have no conscience, and endeavor to make all mortals as bad as themselves,” said the Queen of the Fairies. “We must destroy them.”
“They have defied the great Ak, and threaten the life of our adopted son,” said beautiful Queen Zurline. “We must destroy them.”
The Master Woodsman smiled.
“You speak well,” said he. “These Awgwas we know to be a powerful race, and they will fight desperately; yet the outcome is certain. For we who live can never die, even though conquered by our enemies, while every Awgwa who is struck down is one foe the less to oppose us. Prepare, then, for battle, and let us resolve to show no mercy to the wicked!”
Thus arose that terrible war between the immortals and the spirits of evil which is sung of in Fairyland to this very day.
The King Awgwa and his band determined to carry out the threat to destroy Claus. They now hated him for two reasons: he made children happy and was a friend of the Master Woodsman. But since Ak’s visit they had reason to fear the opposition of the immortals, and they dreaded defeat. So the King sent swift messengers to all parts of the world to summon every evil creature to his aid.
And on the third day after the declaration of war a mighty army was at the command of the King Awgwa. There were three hundred Asiatic Dragons, breathing fire that consumed everything it touched. These hated mankind and all good spirits. And there were the three-eyed Giants of Tatary, a host in themselves, who liked nothing better than to fight. And next came the Black Demons from Patalonia, with great spreading wings like those of a bat, which swept terror and misery through the world as they beat upon the air. And joined to these were the Goozzle-Goblins, with long talons as sharp as swords, with which they clawed the flesh from their foes. Finally, every mountain Awgwa in the world had come to participate in the great battle with the immortals.
The King Awgwa looked around upon this vast army and his heart beat high with wicked pride, for he believed he would surely triumph over his gentle enemies, who had never before been known to fight. But the Master Woodsman had not been idle. None of his people was used to warfare, yet now that they were called upon to face the hosts of evil they willingly prepared for the fray.
Ak had commanded them to assemble in the Laughing Valley, where Claus, ignorant of the terrible battle that was to be waged on his account, was quietly making his toys.
Soon the entire Valley, from hill to hill, was filled with the little immortals. The Master Woodsman stood first, bearing a gleaming ax that shone like burnished silver. Next came the Ryls, armed with sharp thorns from bramblebushes. Then the Knooks, bearing the spears they used when they were forced to prod their savage beasts into submission. The Fairies, dressed in white gauze with rainbow-hued wings, bore golden wands, and the Wood-nymphs, in their uniforms of oak-leaf green, carried switches from ash trees as weapons.
Loud laughed the Awgwa King when he beheld the size and the arms of his foes. To be sure the mighty ax of the Woodsman was to be dreaded, but the sweet-faced Nymphs and pretty Fairies, the gentle Ryls and crooked Knooks were such harmless folk that he almost felt shame at having called such a terrible host to oppose them.
“Since these fools dare fight,” he said to the leader of the Tatary Giants, “I will overwhelm them with our evil powers!”
To begin the battle he poised a great stone in his left hand and cast it full against the sturdy form of the Master Woodsman, who turned it aside with his ax. Then rushed the three-eyed Giants of Tatary upon the Knooks, and the Goozzle-Goblins upon the Ryls, and the firebreathing Dragons upon the sweet Fairies. Because the Nymphs were Ak’s own people the band of Awgwas sought them out, thinking to overcome them with ease.
But it is the Law that while Evil, unopposed, may accomplish terrible deeds, the powers of Good can never be overthrown when opposed to Evil. Well had it been for the King Awgwa had he known the Law!
His ignorance cost him his existence, for one flash of the ax borne by the Master Woodsman of the World cleft the wicked King in twain and rid the earth of the vilest creature it contained.
Greatly marveled the Tatary Giants when the spears of the little Knooks pierced their thick walls of flesh and sent them reeling to the ground with howls of agony.
Woe came upon the sharp-taloned Goblins when the thorns of the Ryls reached their savage hearts and let their life-blood sprinkle all the plain. And afterward from every drop a thistle grew.
The Dragons paused astonished before the Fairy wands, from whence rushed a power that caused their fiery breaths to flow back on themselves so that they shriveled away and died.
As for the Awgwas, they had scant time to realize how they were destroyed, for the ash switches of the Nymphs bore a charm unknown to any Awgwa, and turned their foes into clods of earth at the slightest touch!
When Ak leaned upon his gleaming ax and turned to look over the field of battle he saw the few Giants who were able to run disappearing over the distant hills on their return to Tatary. The Goblins had perished every one, as had the terrible Dragons, while all that remained of the wicked Awgwas was a great number of earthen hillocks dotting the plain.
And now the immortals melted from the Valley like dew at sunrise, to resume their duties in the Forest, while Ak walked slowly and thoughtfully to the house of Claus and entered.
“You have many toys ready for the children,” said the Woodsman, “and now you may carry them across the plain to the dwellings and the villages without fear.”
“Will not the Awgwas harm me?” asked Claus, eagerly.
“The Awgwas,” said Ak, “have perished!”
Now I will gladly have done with wicked spirits and with fighting and bloodshed. It was not from choice that I told of the Awgwas and their allies, and of their great battle with the immortals. They were part of this history, and could not be avoided.
The First Journey with the Reindeer
Those were happy days for Claus when he carried his accumulation of toys to the children who had awaited them so long. During his imprisonment in the Valley he had been so industrious that all his shelves were filled with playthings, and after quickly supplying the little ones living near by he saw he must now extend his travels to wider fields.
Remembering the time when he had journeyed with Ak through all the world, he know children were everywhere, and he longed to make as many as possible happy with his gifts.
So he loaded a great sack with all kinds of toys, slung it upon his back that he might carry it more easily, and started off on a longer trip than he had yet undertaken.
Wherever he showed his merry face, in hamlet or in farmhouse, he received a cordial welcome, for his fame had spread into far lands. At each village the children swarmed about him, following his footsteps wherever he went; and the women thanked him gratefully for the joy he brought their little ones; and the men looked upon him curiously that he should devote his time to such a queer occupation as toy-making. But every one smiled on him and gave him kindly words, and Claus felt amply repaid for his long journey.
When the sack was empty he went back again to the Laughing Valley and once more filled it to the brim. This time he followed another road, into a different part of the country, and carried happiness to many children who never before had owned a toy or guessed that such a delightful plaything existed.
After a third journey, so far away that Claus was many days walking the distance, the store of toys became exhausted and without delay he set about making a fresh supply.
From seeing so many children and studying their tastes he had acquired several new ideas about toys.
The dollies were, he had found, the most delightful of all playthings for babies and little girls, and often those who could not say “dolly” would call for a “doll” in their sweet baby talk. So Claus resolved to make many dolls, of all sizes, and to dress them in bright-colored clothing. The older boys—and even some of the girls—loved the images of animals, so he still made cats and elephants and horses. And many of the little fellows had musical natures, and longed for drums and cymbals and whistles and horns. So he made a number of toy drums, with tiny sticks to beat them with; and he made whistles from the willow trees, and horns from the bog-reeds, and cymbals from bits of beaten metal.
All this kept him busily at work, and before he realized it the winter season came, with deeper snows than usual, and he knew he could not leave the Valley with his heavy pack. Moreover, the next trip would take him farther from home than every before, and Jack Frost was mischievous enough to nip his nose and ears if he undertook the long journey while the Frost King reigned. The Frost King was Jack’s father and never reproved him for his pranks.
So Claus remained at his work-bench; but he whistled and sang as merrily as ever, for he would allow no disappointment to sour his temper or make him unhappy.
One bright morning he looked from his window and saw two of the deer he had known in the Forest walking toward his house.
Claus was surprised; not that the friendly deer should visit him, but that they walked on the surface of the snow as easily as if it were solid ground, notwithstanding the fact that throughout the Valley the snow lay many feet deep. He had walked out of his house a day or two before and had sunk to his armpits in a drift.
So when the deer came near he opened the door and called to them:
“Good morning, Flossie! Tell me how you are able to walk on the snow so easily.”
“It is frozen hard,” answered Flossie.
“The Frost King has breathed on it,” said Glossie, coming up, “and the surface is now as solid as ice.”
“Perhaps,” remarked Claus, thoughtfully, “I might now carry my pack of toys to the children.”
“Is it a long journey?” asked Flossie.
“Yes; it will take me many days, for the pack is heavy,” answered Claus.
“Then the snow would melt before you could get back,” said the deer. “You must wait until spring, Claus.”
Claus sighed. “Had I your fleet feet,” said he, “I could make the journey in a day.”
“But you have not,” returned Glossie, looking at his own slender legs with pride.
“Perhaps I could ride upon your back,” Claus ventured to remark, after a pause.
“Oh no; our backs are not strong enough to bear your weight,” said Flossie, decidedly. “But if you had a sledge, and could harness us to it, we might draw you easily, and your pack as well.”
“I’ll make a sledge!” exclaimed Claus. “Will you agree to draw me if I do?”
“Well,” replied Flossie, “we must first go and ask the Knooks, who are our guardians, for permission; but if they consent, and you can make a sledge and harness, we will gladly assist you.”
“Then go at once!” cried Claus, eagerly. “I am sure the friendly Knooks will give their consent, and by the time you are back I shall be ready to harness you to my sledge.”
Flossie and Glossie, being deer of much intelligence, had long wished to see the great world, so they gladly ran over the frozen snow to ask the Knooks if they might carry Claus on his journey.
Meantime the toy-maker hurriedly began the construction of a sledge, using material from his wood-pile. He made two long runners that turned upward at the front ends, and across these nailed short boards, to make a platform. It was soon completed, but was as rude in appearance as it is possible for a sledge to be.
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 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.
“The good Claus must have been here, my darlings; for his are the only toys in all the world!”The Life and Adventures of Santa Clause, L. Frank Baum
Claus thought that none of the children would ever know where the toys came from which they found by their bedsides when they 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, they 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.
Thus ends Part 5. Santa delivering the toys as he makes them, and finally finds away, with the help of friends, to deliver more widely. How did his delivery of toys end up on Christmas Eve? We will find that out tomorrow. Happy Reading!