Now it so chanced that on this Christmas Eve the good Santa Claus had
taken with him in his sleigh Nuter the Ryl, Peter the Knook, Kilter
the Pixie, and a small fairy named Wisk--his four favorite assistants.
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 Wisk 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 and Nuter 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 Wisk 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 Nuter the Ryl, who
thought and spoke with much deliberation.
"No, no!" exclaimed Peter the Knook, who, cross and crabbed 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."
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