The Hollow Tree Snowed-In Part 17

Well, after she had left, little Jack played with his blocks and built houses and set the stick of sealing-wax up for a brick chimney, and by-and-by he played he was canning fruit, and he wished he could have a little stove and little cans and a little stick of sealing-wax, so he could really do it all just as she did.

Then little Jack Rabbit looked at the nice polished stove and wondered how it would be to use that, and to build a little fire in it--just a _little_ fire--which would make everything seem a good deal more real, he thought, than his make-believe stove of blocks.

And pretty soon little Jack opened the stove door and looked in, and when he stirred the ashes there were still a few live coals there, and when he put in some shavings they blazed up, and when he put in some pieces of old shingles and things they blazed up too, and when he put in some of Mrs. Rabbit's nice dry wood the stove got _quite hot_!

Then little Jack Rabbit became somewhat frightened, for he had only meant to make a very small fire, and he thought this might turn into a big fire. Also, he remembered some things his mother had told him about playing with fire and about _never going near a hot stove_. He thought he'd better open the stove door a little to see if the fire was getting too big, but he was afraid to touch it with his fingers for fear of burning them. He had seen his mother use a stick or something to open the stove door when it was hot, so he picked up the first thing that came handy, which was the stick of sealing-wax. But when he touched it to the hot door the red stick sputtered a little and left a bright red spot on the stove door.

Then little Jack forgot all about putting up blackberries, admiring that beautiful red spot on the shiny black stove, and thinking how nice it would be to make some more like it, which he thought would improve the looks of the stove a great deal.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AND HE MADE SOME STRIPES, TOO--MOSTLY ON TOP OF THE STOVE]

So then he touched it again in another place and made another spot, and in another place and made another spot, and in a lot of places and made a lot of spots, and he made some stripes, too--mostly on top of the stove, which was nice and smooth to mark on, though he made _some_ on the pipe. You would hardly have known it was the same stove when he got all through, and little Jack thought how beautiful it was and how pleased his mother would be when she got home and _saw_ it. But then right away he happened to think that perhaps she might not be so pleased after all, and the more he thought about it the more sure he was that she wouldn't like her nice red-striped and spotted stove as well as a black one; and, besides, she had told him _never_ to play with fire.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LITTLE JACK KNEW PERFECTLY WELL THAT SHE WASN'T AT ALL PLEASED]

And just at that moment Mrs. Rabbit herself stepped in the door! And when she looked at her red-spotted and striped stove and then at little Jack Rabbit, little Jack knew perfectly well without her saying a single word that she wasn't _at all pleased_. So he began to cry very loud, and started to run, and tripped over his blocks and fell against a little stand-table that had Mrs. Rabbit's work-basket on it (for Mrs. Rabbit always knit or sewed while she was cooking anything), and all the spools and b.u.t.tons and knitting-work went tumbling, with little Jack Rabbit right among them, holloing, "Oh, I'm killed! I'm killed!"--just sprawling there on the floor, afraid to get up, and expecting every minute his mother would do something awful.

But Mrs. Rabbit just stood and looked at him over her spectacles and then at her red-spotted and striped stove, and pretty soon she said:

"Well, this is a lovely mess to come home to!"

Which of course made little Jack take on a good deal worse and keep on bawling out that he was killed, until Mrs. Rabbit told him that he was making a good deal of noise for a _dead_ man, and that if he'd get up and pick up all the things he'd upset maybe he'd come to life again.

Then little Jack Rabbit got up and ran to his mother and cried against her best dress and got some tears on it, and Mrs. Rabbit sat down in her rocker and looked at her stove and rocked him until he felt better. And by-and-by she changed her dress and went to cleaning her stove while little Jack picked up all the things--all the spools and b.u.t.tons and needles and knitting-work--every single thing.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PROMISED NEVER TO DISOBEY HIS MOTHER AGAIN]

And after supper, when he said his prayers and went to bed, he promised never to disobey his mother again.

A HOLLOW TREE PICNIC

A HOLLOW TREE PICNIC

THE LITTLE LADY AND THE STORY TELLER, AND THEIR FRIENDS

Not far from the House of Low Ceilings, which stands on the borders of the Big Deep Woods, there is a still smaller house, where, in summertime, the Story Teller goes to make up things and write them down.

And one warm day he is writing away and not noticing what time it is when he thinks he hears somebody step in the door. So then he looks around, and he sees a little straw hat and a little round red face under it, and then he sees a basket, and right away he knows it is the Little Lady. And the Little Lady says:

"I've brought the picnic--did you know it?"

"Why, no!" the Story Teller says, looking surprised. "Is it time?"

"Yes, and I've got huckleberries and cream, and some hot biscuits."

"Good gracious! Let's see!"

So then the Story Teller looks, and, sure enough, there they are, and more things, too; and pretty soon the Little Lady and he go down to a very quiet place under some hemlock-trees by a big rock where there is a clear brook and a spring close by, and they sit down, and the Little Lady spreads the picnic all out--and there is ham too, and bread-and-b.u.t.ter, and doughnuts and they are so hungry that they eat everything, and both dip into one bowl when they get to huckleberries and cream.

Then the Little Lady says:

"Now tell me about the Hollow Tree People; they have picnics, too."

"Sure enough, they do. And I think I'll have to tell you about their very last picnic and what happened."

Well, once upon a time Mr. 'Possum said that he was getting tired of sitting down to a table every meal in a close room with the smell of cooking coming in, and if Mr. Crow would cook up a few things that would taste good cold he'd pack the basket (that is, Mr. 'Possum would) and Mr. 'c.o.o.n could carry it, and they'd go out somewhere and eat their dinner in a nice place under the trees.

Mr. 'c.o.o.n said he knew a pleasant place to go, and Mr. Crow said he'd cook one of Mr. Man's chickens, which Mr. 'Possum had brought home the night before, though it would take time, he said, because it was pretty old--Mr. 'Possum having picked it out in the dark in a hurry.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AND HE TASTED OF THAT A LITTLE, TOO]

So then they all flew around and put away things, and Mr. Crow got the chicken on while Mr. 'c.o.o.n sliced the bread and Mr. 'Possum cut the cake, which they had been saving for Sunday, and he picked out a pie too, and a nice book to read which Mr. Crow had found lying in Mr. Man's yard while the folks were at dinner. Then he packed the basket all neat and nice, and ate a little piece of the cake when Mr. 'c.o.o.n had stepped out to see how the chicken was coming along, and when the chicken was ready he cut it all up nicely, and he tasted of that a little, too, while Mr. Crow was getting on his best picnic things to go.

And pretty soon they all started out, and it was so bright and sunny that Mr. 'Possum began to sing a little, and Mr. 'c.o.o.n told him not to make a noise like that or they'd have company--Mr. Dog or Mr. Fox or somebody--when there was only just enough chicken for themselves, which made Mr. 'Possum stop right away. And before long they came to a very quiet place under some thick hemlock-trees behind a stone wall and close to a brook of clear water.

That was the place Mr. 'c.o.o.n had thought of, and they sat down there and spread out all the things on some moss, and everything looked so nice that Mr. 'Possum said they ought to come here every day and eat dinner as long as the hot weather lasted. Then they were all so hungry that they began on the chicken right away, and Mr. 'Possum said that maybe he _might_ have picked out a tenderer one, but that he didn't think he could have found a bigger one, or one that would have lasted longer, and that, after all, size and lasting were what one needed for a picnic.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. POSSUM LEANED HIS BACK AGAINST A TREE AND READ HIMSELF TO SLEEP]

So they ate first one thing and then another, and Mr. 'c.o.o.n asked if they remembered the time Mr. Dog had come to one of their picnics before they were friends with him, when he'd really been invited to stay away; and they all laughed when they thought how Mr. Rabbit had excused himself, and the others, too, one after another, until Mr. Dog had the picnic mostly to himself. And by-and-by the Hollow Tree People lit their pipes and smoked, and Mr. 'Possum leaned his back against a tree and read himself to sleep, and dreamed, and had a kind of a nightmare about that other picnic, and talked in his sleep about it, which made Mr.

'c.o.o.n think of something to do.

So then Mr. 'c.o.o.n got some long gra.s.s and made a strong band of it and very carefully tied Mr. 'Possum to the tree, and just as Mr. 'Possum began to have his dream again and was saying "Oh! Oh! here comes Mr.

Dog!" Mr. 'c.o.o.n gave three loud barks right in Mr. 'Possum's ear, and Mr. Crow said "Wake up! Wake up, Mr. 'Possum! Here he comes!"

And Mr. 'Possum did wake up, and jumped and jerked at that band, and holloed out as loud as he could:

"Oh, please let me go, Mr. Dog! Oh, please let me go, Mr. Dog!" for he thought it was Mr. Dog that had him, and he forgot all about them being friends.

But just then he happened to see Mr. Crow and Mr. 'c.o.o.n rolling on the ground and laughing, and he looked down to see what had him and found he was tied to a tree, and he knew that they had played a joke on him. That made him pretty mad at first, and he said if he ever got loose he'd pay them back for their smartness.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SO MR. 'POSSUM PROMISED, AND MR. 'c.o.o.n UNTIED HIM]

Then Mr. 'c.o.o.n told him he most likely never would get loose if he didn't promise not to do anything, so Mr. 'Possum promised, and Mr. c.o.o.n untied him. Mr. 'Possum said he guessed the chicken must have been pretty hard to digest, and he knew it was pretty salty, for he was dying for a good cold drink.

Then Mr. 'c.o.o.n said he knew where there was a spring over beyond the wall that had colder water than the brook, and he'd show them the way to it. So they climbed over the wall and slipped through the bushes to the spring, and all took a nice cold drink, and just as they raised their heads from drinking they heard somebody say something. And they all kept perfectly still and listened, and they heard it again, just beyond some bushes.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "AND WHAT DO YOU THINK THEY SAW?"]

So then they crept softly in among the green leaves and branches and looked through, and what do you think they saw?