The Adventures of Nicholas (2 page)

drop off to sleep.

When the villagers found them in the morning, Nicholas was keeping watch by Kati’s side. No one among them could find the courage to tell Nicholas that his baby sister had died of the fever—and that his mother had been struck by a falling tree as she was hurrying though the forest in the storm.

A few hours later they learned that the father’s small fishing boat had overturned and he had drowned at sea.

Nicholas had become a homeless orphan.

THE FIRST HOME
 

HE kindhearted women of the village gathered at the ropemaker’s house to talk about the orphan Nicholas, and what would become of him.

“Of course,” said the ropemaker’s wife, “the boy cannot be left to go hungry or uncared for, but we have six little ones of our own. We have taken him in only until another place can be found.”

“Yes,” answered plump Mistress Larsen, “but now that winter has set in, no family knows for certain when the fishing boats can go out again. We are all worried. We have so little food left.”

The women shivered and drew closer to the comfortable log fire. Greta Vogel arose and looked into the fire thoughtfully. “We could take him for a while,” she murmured. “We have only the three children, and Nicholas can sleep on the extra cot in the storeroom.”

A sigh of relief spread through the little gathering. “But,” she added quickly, “I think everyone

in the village should help out with Nicholas.”

“Quite right,” spoke up another. “Why can’t we agree that each of us here will take Nicholas for a year and then let him change to another family?”

Greta Vogel counted the women present. “There are ten of us here. If we each agree to take Nicholas for a year, that will take care of him until he’s seventeen. Chances are he’ll run away to sea long before that!”

The good women, having provided for Nicholas, turned their thoughts to the Christmas feast which was to be celebrated the next day.

So it was that Nicholas came to his first home-for-a-year on Christmas Eve. The kindly Vogels tried their best to help the lonely orphan. But on Christmas Day Nicholas curled up in a dark corner of the storeroom, and with heartbroken sobs mourned for his mother and father and his little sister Kati.

It wasn’t long before the door opened. “What do you want?” asked Nicholas. “Go away, Otto, and leave me alone.”

“My boat’s broken,” cried Otto, “the new boat I got for the Christmas feast. Father’s gone out and Mother can’t fix it.”

Nicholas brushed the tears from his eyes. “Give it to me,” he said. “I’ll fix it for you.”

“Come in here where there’s more light.” Otto pulled the orphan gently by the arm, and Nicholas went in where there were lights and children and laughter.

As the year passed, the little boy slowly forgot his grief in the busy, happy life of the Vogel household. Otto and his sisters played with him, quarreled with him, and came to think of him as their very own brother. Nicholas returned their love and was not too young to appreciate their kindness.

All too soon it was time to prepare for a new Christmas Day, and Nicholas knew he would have to move on to a different home and family. He wondered how he could thank the Vogels for the happy year he had spent with them.

The only things he owned were the clothes he wore, an extra coat, and the jackknife that had belonged to his father. He couldn’t give any of these things away, and yet he wanted to give some small gift, especially as he was leaving on Christmas Day.

Nicholas remembered an evening long ago when he and his father had whittled small toys for Kati. “I can do it if I try,” he thought. “I can make toys for them.” And he worked quietly in the storeroom, using every spare minute in order to finish by Christmas morning.

The toys were finally ready. A doll for Margret, a little wobbly chair for Gretchen, and a toy sleigh with beautiful curved runners for Otto, his playmate.

On Christmas morning, as the children sadly waved good-bye, Nicholas handed the gifts to his friends. They took the little toys, shouting and dancing in surprise and happiness.

“Well, I’ll be going now. Good-bye, Margret and Gretchen. Good-bye, Otto. Next year, I’ll know how to make better toys. And I’ll make you some
next
Christmas too.” And with this promise Nicholas started out to face another year, smiling bravely, his blue eyes bright and shining in the sharp north wind.

“What do you want?” asked Nicholas.

“Well, well. A snowball fight!”

THE RACE FOR THE SLED
 

N the years that followed, each Christmas Day was a happy one for Nicholas, and for all the children he met, in changing about from house to house. Nicholas did not forget his promise to the Vogels. Each year on Christmas morning he made a special trip to their house, and to every house where he had stayed, leaving gifts for the children. So it happened that each child in every family came to expect a Christmas toy from Nicholas.

As he grew into a tall, strong lad, there were many things he learned to do besides make toys. He helped the men with the boats, mended nets, and watched over the younger children for the busy mothers. The little ones followed wherever he went, and he saw that no harm came to any child in his care.

During the long winter, Nicholas went to the village school. This particular winter day, when he was fourteen years old, he heard about the race for the sled with steel runners.

“There’s going to be a race on Christmas morning,” Otto explained, “starting at the Squire’s gate at the top of the hill. And the prize—”

“—is a big new sled with steel runners!” shouted the other boys, unable to keep quiet any longer.

“What time does the race begin?” Nicholas asked.

“Nine o’clock sharp!” The boys jumped about, pelting one another with snowballs in their excitement.

Nicholas shook his head. “I don’t know whether I can be there,” he said slowly. He couldn’t possibly finish his chores, make the rounds with the gifts, and be on time for the start of the race. But how he longed for a chance to win the beautiful sled with steel runners!

The boys looked at him, silenced by the thought that came to every mind. Otto threw his arm around his friend’s shoulders and led Nicholas away from the group. “You know you don’t have to deliver those toys…” Otto began.

“But the children expect them,” Nicholas whispered. “Besides, the toys are all finished.”

“I mean you don’t have to hand the toys to the children. Couldn’t you just leave them in the doorway…early…even before they wake up?”

The two boys grinned happily at each other. “You are my best friend, Otto, but you’d better

watch out for that prize. I’m going to give you a run for it!”

When the children arose on Christmas morning, they found a bright sun streaming down on the hard, crusted snow. They also found that Nicholas had been there. Every doorway was heaped with little toys, the results of a whole year’s work.

After the excitement over the gifts had worn off, the villagers headed for the starting point of the race, the gate in front of the Squire’s house.

Everyone, that is, except Nicholas. A runner on his little sled had broken under the weight of the wooden toys, and he was desperately trying to fix it with bits of cord and rope. Just as he made the runner secure, he heard the faint echo of the horn announcing the start of the race. He knew he could never get there in time to start with the others, but he might as well make a dash for it.

At the top of the hill, the villagers made way for him. “Come on, Nicholas, lad,” shouted Jan Vogel. “Here men, let’s give him a mighty good push. One…two…three…off he goes!”

Down the hill sped Nicholas, his face stinging in the swift rush of wind. On and on he went, his eyes glowing with excitement as he saw he was gaining ground on the boys ahead. Then he noticed something that puzzled him. The boys had all stopped on the other side of the frozen creek. They had hopped off their sleds and were standing quietly, waiting.

“Come on, Nicholas,” shouted little Josef. “We would have waited for you at the top, but the Squire made us start when the horn blew. But you knew we’d wait for you, didn’t you?”

“From now on see who waits for you,” shouted Otto. “First one home wins the sled with the steel runners!” Then they were off across the fields, now coasting, now dragging their sleds, up and down hill, bumping into one another, laughing and shouting with excitement.

Nicholas was unable to speak. His friends had waited for him! They did like him even though he was an orphan, who had no home of his own and had to be passed around. His clumsy sled felt as light as his heart as he raced across the fields. It wasn’t until he had crossed the brook that he realized he was leading the race.

“Up at the top of the hill there’s a beautiful sled that will hold twice as many toys as this old thing,” he thought. Digging his toes in the hard snow, he started back up the hill. He turned around once to see how close the others were, and heard the encouraging shouts of the villagers. Then he was at the top. He had won the race! Panting, he leaned against the big pine, and smiled and waved to the others.

The big sled with steel runners was very fine. But it was even better to see the boys who had lost the race, pulling Nicholas home on his prize. The little children hopped on behind and climbed lovingly all over him. And each mother and father smiled proudly, as though it had been their own son who had won.