"Is that your sleigh?"
"Yes, Bijah, that's my sleigh."
"Those ain't reindeers, and you're bigger'n you used to be."
"Hear that, Liph?"
Bijah had not a doubt in the world but that he had discovered Santa Claus in the very act of getting ready for Christmas, and his black eyes were growing bigger every minute, until Liph began to climb over the fence. Then he set off on a run as fast as his legs could carry him.
"Hold on," shouted Liph. "We won't hurt you."
"Let him go," said Grandfather Vrooman. "He's on the road to our house. We'll pick him up."
"Where could we put him?"
"Took me for Santa Claus, I declare! Liph, this here tree'll just suit your grandmother."
It was a splendid young spruce-tree, with wide-reaching boughs at less than two feet from the snow level. Grandfather Vrooman worked his way carefully in until he could reach the trunk with saw and axe, and then there was a sharp bit of work for him and Liph to get that "Christmas tree" stowed safely on the top of the sleigh load.