By PAT ZAWODNK

The razor wind cut cruelly down the ice‑capped pavement, sending the tiny needles of ice hissing across the gathering drifts. Above in the velvet sky, the diamond stars glistened like frozen tears. From far down the road a glimmer of sound touched my frozen ear. A shiver that was more than the cold raced down my spine as I anticipated the approach of another person on this lonely road.

The sound drew closer, taking the form of a sleigh and bringing with it the sound of bells, the tramp of many hooves, and the merry laughter of children. A sudden gust of wind blew snow into my eyes and clouded my vision. I stumbled about blindly as the sleigh pulled up to a halt near me. The laughter was subdued as the driver called to me.

"Hello! What have we here? A stranger abroad on a cold Christmas Eve? He spoke with the gruffness of a loving father.

"Greetings to you, sir!" I answered.

"What are you about this Eve," he inquired. "when‑ you should be home with your family?"

"I was just on my way there, but I fear it will be slow going with the snow in my eyes."

"You'll ride with us. Help him up, lads."

Immediately I felt tiny hands lifting me into the sleigh. I was about to tell my sudden host where I lived when we were off. The wind roared in my ears, and the only sound I could hear was the banter of the children-pure and sweet-almost musical. It had been a cold night, but in the bay of the sled with the children I was as

warm and comfortable as if I were seated before my hearth. My vision began to clear, and I could see my host silhouetted against the stars. He guided his team by voice; he needed no whip. From the sound of the hoofbeats I could tell he had a large team. But the sound of the hooves were lost now, and the sensation was like flying. I almost didn't notice as the sleigh slowed to a stop before my home. The tiny hands helped me to my feet and out of the sleigh.

I turned to the twinkling eyes of the driver and asked, "Sir, before I bid you good night, what is your name?"

His abundant whiskers shimmered in the pale blue light as he spoke, in a voice that was suddenly as old as the ages, "I am many things to many people. What do I seem to be to you?"

I looked at his team and more closely at the children. "Why, you must be. . .

"That's right. Farewell!" And without further ado he whistled to his team of eight, and they slid off into the night.

As I stood there watching them go, the door opened behind me; and warm folds of yellow light fell across the snow as my wife stepped out of the house.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"Why, that was. . ." Would she believe me if I told her? I put my arm around her shoulders and turned toward the warmth of the house.

"just an old friend who gave me a ride home."