was the cheeriest and
most agreeable of traveling companions. Indeed, The Hopper's spirits rose
under his continued "goo-gooing" and chirruping.

"Nice little Shaver!" he said, patting the child's knees.

Little Shaver was so pleased by this friendly demonstration that he threw
up his arms in an effort to embrace The Hopper.

"Bil-lee," he gurgled delightedly.

The Hopper was so astonished at being addressed in his own lawful name by
a strange baby that he barely averted a collision with a passing motor
truck. It was unbelievable that the baby really knew his name, but perhaps
it was a good omen that he had hit upon it. The Hopper's resentment
against the dark fate that seemed to pursue him vanished. Even though he
had stolen a baby, it was a merry, brave little baby who didn't mind at
all being run away with! He dismissed the thought of planting the little
shaver at a door, ringing the bell and running away; this was no way to
treat a friendly child that had done him no injury, and The Hopper highly
resolved to do the square thing by the youngster even at personal
inconvenience and risk.

The snow was now falling in generous Christmasy flakes, and the high speed
the car had again attained was evidently deeply gratifying to the young
person, whose reckless tumbling about made it necessary for The Hopper to
keep a hand on him.

"Steady, little un; steady!" The Hopper kept mumbling.

His wits were busy trying to devise some means of getting rid of the
youngster without exposing himself to the danger of arrest. By this time
some one was undoubtedly busily engaged in searching for both baby and
car; the police far and near would be notified, and would be on the
lookout for a smart roadster containing a stolen child.

"Merry Christmas!" a boy shouted from a farm gate.

"M'y Kwismus!" piped Shaver.

The Hopper decided to run the machine home and there ponder the
disposition of his blithe companion with the care the unusual
circumstances demanded.

"'Urry up; me's goin' 'ome to me's gwanpa's kwismus t'ee!"

"Right ye be, little un; right ye be!" affirmed The Hopper.

The youngster was evidently blessed with a sanguine and confiding nature.
His reference to his grandfather's Christmas tree impinged sharply upon
The Hopper's conscience. Christmas had never figured very prominently in
his scheme of life. About the only Christmases that he recalled with any
pleasure were those that he had spent in prison, and those