SANTA CLAUS IN SCHOOL
The four chums pitched in with a will and helped Sandy. They did not
talk much, for, take it all in all, it was rather an embarrassing
situation. Sandy did not know what to say, and the boys did not feel
like entering into friendly conversation.
They did not care to be sociable with Sandy after what he had done, not
only in regard to refusing them a ride, but in the matter of the oil
barge. But they could not see anyone in such a plight as Sandy was,
through no fault of his own, and not render assistance.
"The horses took fright and ran away," Sandy explained, when most of the
bags had been piled on shore. "I couldn't stop 'em. The load was too
heavy, and it was down hill."
The chums did not answer. Sandy did not expect they would. The situation
was too novel. But he was grateful for their help, and, doubtless
resolved not to act meanly toward them in the future. The trouble with
Sandy was he had no strength of character. He was mean in spite of
himself, and couldn't help it.
When the bags were out of the way the five boys, by dint of hard work,
managed to right the sleigh, which was a big double bob. It was not
damaged to any extent and soon was ready to receive the bags of feed.
They were piled in and the horses hitched up again.
"I'm--I'm much obliged to you fellows," said Sandy in a mumbling tone.
"I'm sorry I didn't give you a ride that day."
Sandy meant that. He was much softened by what the chums had done.
"We'd made up our minds to get square with you," said Bart, as he
fastened on his skates. "And I think we did, Sandy," and with that the
four chums started off down the river, while Sandy drove the horses up
into the road.
"Queer way to get square," murmured Ned. "I'd like to punch his face."
"This was the best way," Bart replied, and, somehow, though perhaps they
didn't know just why, the chums agreed with him.
Christmas was approaching, and mingled with the joys of the holiday
season, were thoughts in the minds of the four chums and all the other
pupils, that school would close for two weeks.
"Next Wednesday is Christmas," observed Bart one afternoon as the chums
were on their way home. "School closes Tuesday for the two weeks, and we
ought to mark the occasion in some way. Have you fellows heard of any
celebration?"
"Nary a one," replied Fenn.
"Well, there's going to be something doing, all right."
"Who's going to do it?" asked Ned.
"Well, not the fellow who invited the cow to school," replied Bart,
referring to an incident for which Ned was responsible.
"You, maybe, eh?"
"Maybe," and Bart winked his left eye.
There was little studying done on Monday of Christmas week, and less
was in prospect for the following Tuesday. Some of the classes had
arranged for informal exercises in their rooms and later there was to
be a general gathering of all the pupils of the school in the large
auditorium, at which Mr. McCloud the principal would make an address.
Monday night Bart was very busy in his room. There were odd noises
proceeding from it, and when he came down a little later, and asked
Alice to sew some strips of red cloth for him, she asked:
"What in the world are you up to, Bart?"
"I'm a knight, getting my armor ready for the conflict of battle," he
replied gravely. "Be ready for me when I return, for I may be covered
with wounds and you can get lots of first-aid-to-the-injured practice."
"Now, don't do anything silly," Alice advised.
"Far be it from me to do any such thing. You girls can attend to that
part."
"As if we girls were anywhere near as silly as boys are when they get
started," commented Alice, sewing away at the cloth. "Ouch! There, I've
pricked my finger!" and she wiped away a few drops of blood.
"Here! Don't get my uniform all spotted!" exclaimed Bart, as he saw
Alice wipe her finger with the red cloth.
"Silly! How is blood going to show on this old red flannel?" asked
Alice. "You'll have to wait, Bart, until I wash my finger in an
antiseptic solution," and, laying aside the cloth, Alice hurried for
her little box of remedies.
"I can sew it myself," declared Bart, and he tried to, but he made
awkward work of it, for he used a five cent piece in place of a thimble,
at which Alice laughed when she returned. Under her skillful fingers,
even though one was done up in a cloth, the work was soon completed.
It was about two o'clock when the pupils were assembled in the auditorium
of the High School Tuesday afternoon. Professor McCloud delivered an
address on the meaning of Christmas, telling of how ancient people
celebrated it, and relating stories of the various nations that had
beliefs in myths corresponding to Santa Claus, or St. Nicholas.
"Speaking of Santa Claus," Mr. McCloud went on, as the closing remarks
to his lecture, "I am reminded of--"
At that instant there was a jingle of bells out in the corridor, and
before pupils or teachers, the latter all sitting on the raised platform
in front, knew what it portended, a strange sight was presented.
Into the big room came a personage dressed in the usual Santa Claus
costume, red flannel striped with white, a big white beard, his clothing
sprinkled with something to represent snow, and, over his back a big
bag.
But, oddest of all, was a little sleigh which St. Nicholas pulled in
after him by a string. Hitched in front of it were eight tiny reindeer,
made of plaster-of-paris, properly colored. Each animal was on a stand
on wheels, and as St. Nicholas pulled them in with the sleigh, he shook
the leading string, on which were bells, so that they jingled
musically.
"Merry Christmas to all!" exclaimed St. Nicholas in a deep bass voice.
"May I speak to them, sir?" and the figure turned to Professor McCloud,
who, entering into the spirit of the occasion, nodded an assent. Neither
he nor any of the teachers were prepared for the advent of Santa Claus.
Some of the boys had suspected, but they were not sure.
"My sled and reindeer shrunk as soon as I struck this climate," Santa
Claus went on in his deep tones, which Ned was puzzling his brain over.
He was wondering where he had heard them before. "Still I managed to
come," the red-coated figure went on. "I have a few gifts for some of
the more faithful of my subjects."
He slung the bag from his shoulder and began groping in it.
"Is Lem Gordon here?" he asked.
"Step up, Lemuel," said Professor McCloud, for, though he did not know
what was coming, he was willing to let the pupils have fun on such an
occasion as this.
Rather sheepishly Lem, the pitcher on the High School nine, left his
seat.
"I have heard of your good work last season," Santa Claus went on,
"and, as a reward for it I have brought you this. May it help you to win
many games."
With that he handed Lem a red, white and blue striped rubber ball, the
kind given to babies so they can not hurt themselves.
The other pupils burst into laughter, and Lem blushed. He acted as
though he was going to throw it at the head of St. Nicholas, but thought
better of it and went to his seat.
"Fenn Masterson," Santa Claus called next, and Stumpy went forward.
"Fenn, I have heard how devoted you are to the ladies," the speaker went
on. "So I bring you this that you may never forget them," and Fenn was
given a doll dressed in the height of fashion. On the neck was a card
which read: "I love Fenn and Fenn loves me."
"Kiss her, Fenn!" called out Ned in a loud whisper, and poor Fenn,
blushing to his ears, carried the doll back to his seat.
"I have here something for Ned Wilding," the figure went on, and, as
Ned, in response to the remorseless urging of his fellow pupils, went
forward he was given a tin rattle box.
"Now James Eaton," called Santa Claus, and James, who was very fond of
dogs was given a little woolly one that emitted a squeaky bark when
gently punched in the stomach.
"William Sanderson!" called St. Nicholas, and a lad who did little else
than fish in his spare time, was presented with a small pole and line,
from which dangled a tin trout.
So it went on, until a score of the boys and several girls had been
given toy presents bearing on their particular traits of character.
Meanwhile Ned and Fenn had been whispering to each other.
"Shall I do it now?" asked Ned, as St. Nicholas seemed to have reached
the bottom of his bag.
"Yes," whispered Fenn.
As Santa Claus prepared to leave, thinking perhaps his identity had not
been penetrated, Ned walked forward.
"One moment," he called, and St. Nicholas halted in the act of dragging
out his tiny reindeer and sleigh.
"Though you have remembered us, you have forgotten yourself," Ned went
on. "Therefore, Mr. Bart Keene, _alias_ St. Nicholas, on behalf of the
pupils of the school I present you with this."
Before Bart could get away Ned had torn the false beard from his chum's
face. Then, holding out what seemed to be a basket-ball, Ned suddenly
raised it high in the air and brought it down on Bart's head. It broke
with a loud sound, for it was paper blown up, and out flew a shower of
confetti, which covered Bart's red flannel uniform with tiny scraps of
colored paper. Ned had brought it to use in playing a joke on someone
else, but, at the last minute, discovering the identity of St. Nicholas,
he had resolved on a different plan.