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It was well known that no harm can come to Santa Claus while he is in
the Laughing Valley, for the fairies, and ryls, and knooks all protect
him. But on Christmas Eve he drives his reindeer out into the big
world, carrying a sleighload of toys and pretty gifts to the children;
and this was the time and the occasion when his enemies had the best
chance to injure him. So the Daemons laid their plans and awaited the
arrival of Christmas Eve.

The moon shone big and white in the sky, and the snow lay crisp and
sparkling on the ground as Santa Claus cracked his whip and sped away
out of the Valley into the great world beyond. The roomy sleigh was
packed full with huge sacks of toys, and as the reindeer dashed onward
our jolly old Santa laughed and whistled and sang for very joy. For
in all his merry life this was the one day in the year when he was
happiest–the day he lovingly bestowed the treasures of his workshop
upon the little children.

It would be a busy night for him, he well knew. As he whistled and
shouted and cracked his whip again, he reviewed in mind all the towns
and cities and farmhouses where he was expected, and figured that he
had just enough presents to go around and make every child happy. The
reindeer knew exactly what was expected of them, and dashed along so
swiftly that their feet scarcely seemed to touch the snow-covered ground.

Suddenly a strange thing happened: a rope shot through the moonlight
and a big noose that was in the end of it settled over the arms and
body of Santa Claus and drew tight. Before he could resist or even
cry out he was jerked from the seat of the sleigh and tumbled head
foremost into a snowbank, while the reindeer rushed onward with the
load of toys and carried it quickly out of sight and sound.

Such a surprising experience confused old Santa for a moment, and when
he had collected his senses he found that the wicked Daemons had
pulled him from the snowdrift and bound him tightly with many coils of
the stout rope. And then they carried the kidnapped Santa Claus away
to their mountain, where they thrust the prisoner into a secret cave
and chained him to the rocky wall so that he could not escape.

“Ha, ha!” laughed the Daemons, rubbing their hands together with cruel
glee. “What will the children do now? How they will cry and scold
and storm when they find there are no toys in their stockings and no
gifts on their Christmas trees! And what a lot of punishment they
will receive from their parents, and how they will flock to our Caves
of Selfishness, and Envy, and Hatred, and Malice! We have done a
mighty clever thing, we Daemons of the Caves!”

Now it so chanced that on this Christmas Eve the good Santa Claus had
taken with him in his sleigh Nuter the Ryl, Peter the Knook, Kilter
the Pixie, and a small fairy named Wisk–his four favorite assistants.
These little people he had often found very useful in helping him to
distribute his gifts to the children, and when their master was so
suddenly dragged from the sleigh they were all snugly tucked
underneath the seat, where the sharp wind could not reach them.

The tiny immortals knew nothing of the capture of Santa Claus until
some time after he had disappeared. But finally they missed his
cheery voice, and as their master always sang or whistled on his
journeys, the silence warned them that something was wrong.