A Reversible Santa Claus | Page 3

likely,
that the short, stocky gentleman he had seen on the New Haven local

was not a "bull"--not really a detective who had observed the little
transaction in the subway; but the very uncertainty annoyed The
Hopper. In his happy and profitable year at Happy Hill Farm he had
learned to prize his personal comfort, and he was humiliated to find
that he had been frightened into leaving the train at Bansford to
continue his journey afoot, and merely because a man had looked at
him a little queerly.
Any Christmas spirit that had taken root in The Hopper's soul had been
disturbed, not to say seriously threatened with extinction, by the
untoward occurrences of the afternoon.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]

II
The Hopper waited for a limousine to pass and then crawled out of his
hiding-place, jumped into the roadster, and was at once in motion. He
glanced back, fearing that the owner might have heard his departure,
and then, satisfied of his immediate security, negotiated a difficult turn
in the road and settled himself with a feeling of relief to careful but
expeditious flight. It was at this moment, when he had urged the car to
its highest speed, that a noise startled him--an amazing little chirrupy
sound which corresponded to none of the familiar forewarnings of
engine trouble. With his eyes to the front he listened for a repetition of
the sound. It rose again--it was like a perplexing cheep and chirrup,
changing to a chortle of glee.
"Goo-goo! Goo-goo-goo!"
The car was skimming a dark stretch of road and a superstitious awe
fell upon The Hopper. Murder, he gratefully remembered, had never
been among his crimes, though he had once winged a too-inquisitive
policeman in Kansas City. He glanced over his shoulder, but saw no
pursuing ghost in the snowy highway; then, looking down

apprehensively, he detected on the seat beside him what appeared to be
an animate bundle, and, prompted by a louder "goo-goo," he put out his
hand. His fingers touched something warm and soft and were promptly
seized and held by Something.
The Hopper snatched his hand free of the tentacles of the unknown and
shook it violently. The nature of the Something troubled him. He
renewed his experiments, steering with his left hand and exposing the
right to what now seemed to be the grasp of two very small mittened
hands.
"Goo-goo! Goody; teep wunnin'!"
"A kid!" The Hopper gasped.
That he had eloped with a child was the blackest of the day's calamities.
He experienced a strange sinking feeling in the stomach. In moments of
apprehension a crook's thoughts run naturally into periods of penal
servitude, and the punishment for kidnaping, The Hopper recalled, was
severe. He stopped the car and inspected his unwelcome fellow
passenger by the light of matches. Two big blue eyes stared at him
from a hood and two mittens were poked into his face. Two small feet,
wrapped tightly in a blanket, kicked at him energetically.
"Detup! Mate um skedaddle!"
Obedient to this command The Hopper made the car skedaddle, but
superstitious dread settled upon him more heavily. He was satisfied
now that from the moment he transferred the strap-hanger's bill-book to
his own pocket he had been hoodooed. Only a jinx of the most
malevolent type could have prompted his hurried exit from a train to
dodge an imaginary "bull." Only the blackest of evil spirits could be
responsible for this involuntary kidnaping!
"Mate um wun! Mate um 'ippity stip!"
The mittened hands reached for the wheel at this juncture and an
unlooked-for "jippity skip" precipitated the young passenger into The

Hopper's lap.
This mishap was attended with the jolliest baby laughter. Gently but
with much firmness The Hopper restored the youngster to an upright
position and supported him until sure he was able to sustain himself.
"Ye better set still, little feller," he admonished.
The little feller seemed in no wise astonished to find himself abroad
with a perfect stranger and his courage and good cheer were not lost
upon The Hopper. He wanted to be severe, to vent his rage for the day's
calamities upon the only human being within range, but in spite of
himself he felt no animosity toward the friendly little bundle of
humanity beside him. Still, he had stolen a baby and it was incumbent
upon him to free himself at once of the appalling burden; but a baby is
not so easily disposed of. He could not, without seriously imperiling his
liberty, return to the cottage. It was the rule of house-breakers, he
recalled, to avoid babies. He had heard it said by burglars of wide
experience and unquestioned wisdom that babies were the most
dangerous of all burglar alarms. All things considered, kidnaping and
automobile theft were not a happy combination