"Who in the world is Santa Claus?" asked Ted.

"Why, just Santa Claus, you goose," said Stella, laughing.

But now Santa Claus got down from the pony's back and stepped to the front of the tree. Every one gathered around and kept silent.

"Good evening, children," he said, in a gruff and husky voice.

"Ach, it iss Kris Krinkle!" shouted Carl Schwartz, in glee. "Py Chiminy, ain't he n.o.ble? How you vas, Kris?"

"Children, I have a few seasonable gifts for you which I will give you before I hurry away, for I have many more young friends whom I must visit before the dawn. But first I will turn over to my young friend Ted Strong this beautiful pony, which has been intrusted to me by Major Caruthers." He led the pony forward and thrust the bridle into Ted's hand.

Ted was so astonished that he did not know what to say, but managed at last to mumble his thanks to his host.

For Stella there was a beautiful necklace of New Mexican turquoises from the major, who also had not forgotten one of the boys.

Then mysterious packages, well wrapped, were handed off the tree, and as they were opened, shouts of laughter greeted them, for nearly every one of them contained something meant as a joke on the recipient.

Carl got a n.o.ble-looking parcel, and when he opened it, found a nice red bologna sausage. Every one screamed with laughter, but Carl promptly turned the joke by taking out his knife and cutting up and devouring the sausage.

There was a lemon for Kit from Ben, and a Joe Miller joke book, full of antiquated chestnuts, for Bud, who proceeded to get square by reading all the most ancient ones, such as the chicken crossing the road, and similar gems.

While the laughter and fun were at their height there was a sound on the veranda, and they all stopped to listen.

Ted instinctively turned to where Farnsworth was sitting alone in the corner, for there had been no presents for him, and saw him sitting up, listening intently.

Being a guilty man, or, at least, aware that he was being pursued, he was alert.

"What's the row out there?" asked the major, who was loath to have the evening's fun disturbed by outsiders.

"Don't know," said Ted. "Sounded like some one walking on the veranda and trying the door."

He had no sooner spoken when the door was thrust open and four men sprang into the room and looked around.

At the same instant, Farnsworth leaped to his feet, drawing his revolver and backing into the center of the room.

Farnsworth was as pale as paper, but his eyes flashed fire as he glanced swiftly around.

Apparently there was no way of escape, for the intruders barred the only outside door.

The sudden entrance into the brilliant light had temporarily blinded the men, so that they stood uncertainly for a few moments, looking from one to the other of the figures that almost filled the room.

Major Caruthers now stepped in front of them, his face red with anger.

"What do you mean by intruding on me like this?" he thundered.

For answer, one of the men threw back his coat and displayed the star of a deputy United States marshal.

"We're officers," he said gruffly, "an' we want Fancy Farnsworth."

"You've come to the wrong place," said the major.

"Oh, no, we haven't. We traced him right here, an' he's in this house."

"What crime has he committed?"

"He killed a woman over at Rodeo last night."

An exclamation of horror arose from all parts of the room.

"There he is! Get him!" almost screamed one of the men, pointing to the pale but resolute figure standing under the chandelier.

There was a rush, and confusion indescribable followed.

Crash went the chandelier, shattered into a thousand pieces by a dozen bullets.

Rushing, struggling forms turned the smoke-filled room into a perfect bedlam.

Two of the intruders went to the floor, sent there by swift and powerful right-handers from Ted.

But they were up and rushing through the room in the direction of the Christmas tree.

There Santa Claus met them, and again they were bowled over.

Ted saw the slender, black-clothed figure of Farnsworth slip past him in the smoke.

Then followed the sharp hoofbeats of a pony on the wooden floor, a crash of gla.s.s, and the swift patter on the earth outside, and all was still.

Farnsworth had leaped upon the back of Ted's Christmas-gift pony and escaped.

CHAPTER XV.

THE THUGGEE CORD.

Several moments following the dramatic and sensational escape of the Christmas guest pa.s.sed in silence, to be broken at last by Kit.

"That was about the smoothest get-away I ever saw," he said, with a grin, for he had a.s.sisted in it by deftly tripping the chief deputy while he was on the way to intercept the pony.

"What in thunder did they want to stop my star performance for?" asked Santa Claus, pulling off his beard and revealing the rubicund face of Ben Tremont, who was slowly baking beneath the heavy robes and hairy disguise.

"Well, he's gone, and only taken a pony and a window with him," said the major, "and he's welcome to both. And now, you men, we'll try to dispense with your company. You see, this is a private party, and had I known that you were in this part of the country, I probably would have invited you to be present. But I regret to say that the guest list is full."

The leader of the posse of deputy marshals looked up with a scowl.

Apparently, he was mad clear through at the sudden and unexpected loss of his prospective prisoner.

As he looked about his eye encountered that of Ted Strong, in which he saw laughter, which did not tend to lessen his anger.