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