“Let’s have a shy at Santa Claus,” whispered Hal to his sister; and, making a big snow-ball, their eyes sparkling with fun, they threw it suddenly at their guide, who was sitting on a rock near by.
But how astonished they were, when the snow-ball hit him, to see it gradually spread out and cover him.
“Good-bye, children! Good-bye! good-bye!” said Santa Claus in a low muffled voice; and then, all that was left of their kind guide was a heap of snow.
“Oh! what have we done!” cried Cis, as she looked round and round for Santa Claus.
She thought the heap of snow was something like him in shape, but then it was only a heap of snow, and poor Cis sat down and cried.
Hal tried to look brave, but felt inclined to cry too, when he remembered how far they were from home.
“How shall we get down the mountain? How shall we get back to mother?” moaned Cis, and the tears ran down her cheeks afresh.
Then from out the snow-heap sprang hundreds of little long-legged sprites, with high pointed ice-caps on their heads, and wearing coats of sparkling snow, the icicle-fringe of which jingled merrily.
What round, rosy faces they had! What twinkling blue eyes! In their hands they carried frost lances or little crystal spades, which they flourished in the air as they sprang up from the snow, making flashes of light in the sun.
“Who are you?” cried Hal.