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Their shouts of merriment drifted back to the camp where Kris Kringle and Professor Zepplin were setting things to rights and preparing an early supper, the sun still being some hours high. "That's a great bunch of boys, Professor." "Great for getting into difficulties." "And for getting out of them."
And then, the two white beds in the two bedrooms close by held four little happy bodies, whose souls were given into God's keeping till his Christmas dawn should come, in the old, holy rhyme, said after Glory. By and by, Faith and Mr. Armstrong and Miss Sampson came over from the Corner House, with parcels from. Kriss Kringle. And now there was a gladsome time for all; but chiefly, for Glory.
"So you have never kept Christmas before," said he, pausing in his cheerful whistle, which he kept up under his breath like a violin obligato to his whittling of boughs; "and you don't believe in Kris Kringle and his prancing reindeers? My, what fun we boys had up in the old Beverwyck at Albany last year," and Peter chuckled at the recollection of past pranks.
"My, but you do look just like a pictur of Kris Kringle!" laughed Phoebe. "Don't he, Rebecca?" Rebecca came to the kitchen door wiping a dish with slow circular movements of her towel. "I don't guess you'll freeze very much with all that on," she remarked. "Thet shows you don't know what seventy or eighty below zero means," said a muffled voice from within the fur cap.
And now this became an anxious function, for night had fallen and it would soon be necessary to light the candles on the tree, and Cherokee was apt to make an irruption at any time in his Kriss Kringle garb. At length the wagon of the child "rustlers" rattled down the street to the door. The ladies, with little screams of excitement, flew to the lighting of the candles.
"I'll obey orders, sir." "I know it." "When do we start?" "I guess we can do so now, as safely as at any time. The rascals will not be likely to be on the mountain just yet, because it is not dark enough. Yes; we'll go now." Tad waited until Kris Kringle had crawled from the cave, then lay down on his stomach and wriggled out on the ledge.
"Mind you, I don't think for a minute that it will happen. I can handle these fellows if I get the lay of the land. Keep close enough to hear me." "That's not so easy." "No; but you'll know. When I stop you do the same." Kris Kringle moved away without another word. His abrupt departure was the signal for the Pony Rider boy to start, which he did instantly.
Fire!" cried Professor Zepplin, leaping up from where he had been leaning over, watching the water bubbling in the bottom of the excavation they had made. The guide had been hanging over the hole, dipping water to Ned, who was turning it into the water-bags. "Where, where?" demanded Mr. Kringle explosively. He also sprang to his feet. "It's a prairie fire!" "The boys are caught.
In the faint light of the camp-fire the lad, gazing where Kris Kringle had pointed, was astonished to see a figure seated at their table. From his motions it was evident that the intruder was stowing away the stolen fool at a great rate. "Is that one of them?" "Yes." "He'll have indigestion, the way he's eating. Hope he doesn't swallow the dishes, too." "I'm going to find the other one.
Professor Zepplin and Kris Kringle were sitting at opposite ends of the table, with elbows leaning on it, engaged in earnest conversation. There had been so much yelling out on the plain ever since the boys left camp that the older men gave no heed to this new shout did not even turn their eyes in the direction whence Stacy Brown and his pony were sweeping down on them at break-neck speed.
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