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04 - The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus - L Frank Baum · Adventure Books Library

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  Manhood, Chapter one, The Laughing Valley. When Claws came, the valley
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  was empty save for the grass, the brook, the wild flowers, the
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  bees, and the butterflies. If he would make his home here and live
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  after the fashion of men, he must have a house. This puzzled him
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  at first, but while he stood smiling in the sunshine, he suddenly found
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  beside him Old Nelko, the servant of the master woodsmen. Nelko bore an
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  axe, strong and broad, with a blade that gleamed like burnished silver.
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  This he placed in the young man's hand, then disappeared without a word.
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  Claws understood, and turning to the forest's edge, he selected a number of
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  fallen tree trunks, which he began to clear of their dead branches. He
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  would not cut into a living tree. His life among the nymphs who guarded
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  the forest had taught him that a live tree is sacred, being a created
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  thing endowed with feeling. But with the dead and fallen trees it was different.
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  They had fulfilled their destiny as active members of the forest community, and
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  now it was fitting that their remains should minister to the needs of man.
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  The axe bit deep into the logs. At every stroke it seemed to have
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  a force of its own, and Claws had but to swing and guide it.
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  When shadows began creeping over the green hills to lie in the valley over
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  night, the young man had chopped many logs into equal lengths and proper shapes
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  for building a house such as he had seen the poorer classes of men in
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  habit, then resolving to await another day before he tried to fit the logs
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  together, Claws ate some of the sweet roots he well knew how to find.
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  Drank deeply from the laughing brook, and lay down to sleep on the
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  grass, first seeking a spot where no flot flowers grew, lest the weight
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  of his body should crush them. And while he slumbered and breathed in the
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  perfume of the wondrous valley, the spirit of happiness crept into his heart and
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  drove out all terror and care and misgivings. Never more would the face of
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  Claws be clouded with anxieties. Never more would the trials of life weigh him
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  down, as with a burden the Laughing Valley had claimed him for its own.
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  Would that we all might live in that delightful place. But then maybe
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  it would become overcrowded for ages it had awaited a tenant. Was a chance
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  that led young Claws to make his home in this happy vale? Or may
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  we guess that his thoughtful friends, the immortals, had directed his steps when
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  he wandered away from Berzi to seek a home in the great world. Certain
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  it is that while the moon peered over the hill top and flooded with its
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  soft beams the body of the sleeping stranger, the laughing valley was filled with
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  the queer, crooked shapes of the friendly looks. These people spoke no words,
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  but worked with skill and swiftness. The log's claws had trimmed with his
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  bright axe, were carried to a spot beside the brook and fitted one upon
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  another, And during the night a strong and roomy dwelling was built. The
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  birds came sweeping into the valley at daybreak, and their songs, so seldom
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  heard in the deep wood, aroused the stranger. He rubbed the web of
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  sleep from his eyelids and looked around the house met his gaze. I must
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  thank the knooks for this, said he gratefully. Then he walked to his
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  dwelling and entered at the doorway. A large room faced him, having a
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  fireplace at the end and a table and bench in the middle. Beside the
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  fireplace was a cupboard. Another doorway was beyond. Claws entered here also and
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  saw a smaller room with a bed against the wall and a stool set near
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  a small stand. On the bed were many layers of dried moss brought from
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  the forest. Indeed, it is a palace, exclaimed the smiling Claws.
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  I must thank the good knooks again for their knowledge of man's needs, as
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  well as for their labors in my behalf. He left his new home with
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  a glad, feeling that he was not quite alone in the world, although
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  he had chosen to abandon his forest life. Friendships are not easily broken,
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  and the immortals are everywhere. Upon reaching the brook, he drank of the
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  pure water, and then sat down on the bank to laugh at the mischievous
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  gambols of the ripples as they pushed one another against rocks, or crowded desperately
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  to see which should first reach the turn beyond. And as they raced away,
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  he listened to the song they sang, rushing, pushing on we go.
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  Not a wave may gently flow. All are too excited. Every drop
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  delighted turns to spray in merry play as we tumble on our way. Next,
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  claws searched for roots to eat, while the daffodils turned their little eyes
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  up to him laughingly and lisped their dainty song. Blooming fairly, growing rarely
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  never Flowerets were so gay, perfume, breathing joy, bequeathing as our colors
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  we display. It made claws laugh to hear the little things voice their happiness
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  as they nodded gracefully on their stems. But another strain caught his ear as
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  the sunbeams fell gently across his face, and whispered, Here is gladness that
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  our rays warmed the valley through the days. Here is happiness to give comfort
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  unto all who live, Yes, cried claws in answer, there is happiness
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  and joy in all things. Here, the Laughing Valley is a valley of
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  peace and good will. He passed the day talking with the ants and beetles,
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  and exchanging jokes with the light hearted butterflies. And at night he lay
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  on his bed of soft moss and slept soundly. Then came the fairies,
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  merry but noiseless, bringing skillets and pots and dishes and pans, and all
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  the tools necessary to prepare food and to comfort a mortal. With these,
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  they filled cupboard and fireplace, finally placing a stout suit of wool clothing on
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  the stool by the bedside. When Claws awoke, he rubbed his eyes again
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  and laughed and spoke aloud his thanks to the fairies and the Master woodsmen,
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  who had sent them. With eager joy, he examined all his new possessions,
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  wondering what sum might be used for. But in the days when he
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  had clung to the girdle of the Great ac and visited the cities of Men,
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  his eyes had been quick to note all the manners and customs of the
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  race to which he belonged. So he guessed from the gifts brought by the
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  fairies that the Master had expected him hereafter to live in the fashion of his
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  fellow creatures. Which means that I must plow the earth and plant corn,
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  he reflected, so that when winter comes I shall have garnered food in plenty.
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  But as he stood in the grassy valley, he saw that to turn
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  up the earth in furrows would be to destroy hundreds of pretty, helpless flowers
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  as well as thousands of the tender blades of grass, and this he could
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  not bear to do. Therefore, he stretched out his arms and uttered a
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  peculiar whistle he had learned in the forest. Afterward, crying, rills of
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  the field flowers come to me. Instantly A dozen of the queer little rills
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  were squatting upon the ground before him, and they nodded to him in cheerful
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  greeting. Claws gazed upon them earnestly. Your brothers of the forest, he
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  said, I have known and loved many years. I shall love you also
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  when we have become friends to me. The laws of the rills, whether
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  those of the forest or of the field, are sacred. I have never
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  wilfully destroyed one of the flowers you tend so carefully. But I must plant
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  grain to use for food during the cold winter. And how am I to
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  do this without killing the little creatures that sing to me so prettily of their
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  fragrant blossoms. The yellow rill, he who tends the buttercups, made answer,
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  fret not, friend, claws, The great Act has spoken to us
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  of you. There is better work for you in life than to labor for
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  food, and not being of the forest ak has no command over us.
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  Nevertheless, we are glad to favor one he loves live. Therefore, to
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  do the good work you are resolved to undertake. We the field Rills will
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  attend to your food supplies. After this speech, the Rills were no longer
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  to be seen, and claws drove from his mind the thought of tilling the
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  earth. When next he wandered back to his dwelling, a bowl of fresh
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  milk stood upon the table. Bread was in the cupboard, and sweet honey
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  filled a dish. Beside it. A pretty basket of rosy apples and new
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  plucked grapes were also awaiting him. He called out, thanks, my friends,
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  to the invisible Rills, and straightway began to eat of the food.
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  Thereafter, when hungry, he had but look into the cupboard to find goodly
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  supplies brought by the kindly Rills, and the nooks cut and stacked much wood
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  for his fireplace, and the fairies brought him warm blankets and clothing. So
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  began his life in the Laughing Valley, with the favor and friendship of the
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  immortals to minister to his every want. End of Chapter one