“Are you the children of Santa Claus?” asked little Cis, “and if so, can you tell us where he has gone, please?”
“We are his servants,” shouted they, “and he has sent us to help you; for he has started on his journey to the Old World, where the children will soon be looking for him.”
“Oh! is that where he has gone!” said little Cis with a relieved air, glad to find they had not killed him; “and will you help us to go home? because I think it must be Christmas morning, and mother will be expecting us;” and little Cis thought she could hear the Bell-bird’s chimes, as she had heard it many a time in the early morning.
“Yes, we will help you,” answered the sprites.
Just then they heard the bird circling over their heads, again crying, “Ke-a! Ke-a! Come up! come up!” and Hal, helping little Cis, and planting his stick firmly, step by step, in the snow, followed the sprites, who tripped lightly on, looking like points of dancing light.
At last, after hard climbing, they reached the ice-clad side of the highest peak. How beautiful the prospect in the bright sunlight! The clouds all gone; nothing but the clear blue sky above and around. All was still, save when the avalanches thundered down from the heights. The children stood and watched the huge masses of ice as they slid down, now here, now there from the shining peaks, to fall like powdered snow into the foaming glacier stream in the dim depths below.
Meanwhile the little sprites were hard at work digging, cutting, shaping a huge block of ice.
“What are you making?” asked Hal. “Can we help?”
“Yes, if you like,” said the sprites, and they gave him and Cis two little spades. The children were soon quite hot, working as the sprites bade them, loosening and shaping the huge block of ice; while every now and then they would all stop, and pelt each other with the powdered ice, and the sprites sang:—