The Hollow Tree Snowed-in Book Part 8

He did not rob anybody that day. There was nothing in the woods but trees and vines. Erastus tripped over the vines and hurt himself, and lost the toy pistol.

Then it came night, and he was very lonesome. For the first time in his life Erastus missed his mother. There was a nice full moon, but Erastus did not care for it. Some of the black shadows about him looked as if they might be live things. By-and-by he heard a noise near him.

Erastus the Robber Duck started to run; but he was lost, and did not know which way to go. All at once he was face to face with some large animal. It wore a long cape and a mask. It also carried a real pistol which it pointed at Erastus and told him to hold up his wings. Erastus the Robber Duck held up his wings as high as possible, and tried to get them higher. It did not seem to Erastus that he could hold them up high enough. His mother had read to him about robbers.

Then the robber took all the things that Erastus had in his pockets. He took his new knife and his little watch; also the nice bag which his mother had given him for Christmas.

Erastus kept his wings up a good while after the robber had gone. He was afraid the robber had not gone far enough. When he put them down they were cramped and sore. Then he heard something again, and thought it was the robber coming back after his clothes.

Erastus fled with great speed, taking off his garments as he ran. At last he reached the edge of the wood, not far from where he lived. It was just morning, and his mother saw him coming. She looked sad, and embraced him.

It was the first time Erastus had been out all night.

Erastus was not allowed to go swimming or even to leave the yard for a long time. Whenever he remembered that night in the woods he shivered, and his mother thought he had a chill. Then she would put him to bed and give him some of the unpleasant medicine.

Erastus did not tell his mother _all_ that had happened that night for a good while. He was ashamed to do so. But one day when he seemed quite sick and his mother was frightened, he broke down and told her all about it. Then his mother forgave him, and he got well right away.

After that Erastus behaved, and grew to be the best and largest duck in Mr. Man's farm-yard.

While Mr. Dog had been reading his story the Hollow Tree People--the 'c.o.o.n and the 'Possum and the Old Black Crow--had been leaning forward and almost holding their breath, and Mr. Dog felt a good deal flattered when he noticed how interested they were. When he sat down he saw that Mr. 'Possum's mouth was open and his tongue fairly hanging out with being so excited.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. 'POSSUM SAID IT MIGHT BE A GOOD ENOUGH STORY, BUT IT COULDN'T BE TRUE]

Then before any of the others could say a word, Mr. 'Possum said that it might be a good enough story, but that it couldn't be true. He said that he wasn't a judge of stories, but that he was a judge of ducks--young ducks, or old either--and that no young duck could pa.s.s the night in the Big Deep Woods and get home at sunrise or any other time, unless all the other animals were snowed in or locked up in a menagerie, and that the animal that had met Erastus might have robbed him, of course, but he would have eaten him first, and then carried off what was left, unless, of course, that robber was a rabbit, and he said that he didn't believe any rabbit would have s.p.u.n.k enough to be in that business.

Mr. Rabbit was about to say something just then, but Mr. Crow and Mr.

'c.o.o.n both interrupted and said they thought Mr. 'Possum was right for once, except about Mr. Rabbit, who was plenty brave enough, but too much of a gentleman to be out robbing people at night when he could be at home in bed asleep. Then Mr. Dog said:

"I don't know whether the story is true or not. I wrote it down as I heard it among Mr. Man's fowls, and I know the duck that they still call Erastus, and he's the finest, fattest--"

But Mr. Dog didn't get any further. For the Hollow Tree People broke in and said, all together:

"Oh, take us to see him, Mr. Dog! Or perhaps you could bring him to see us. Invite him to spend an evening with us in the Hollow Tree. Tell him we will have him for dinner and invite our friends. Oh, do, Mr. Dog!"

But Mr. Dog knew what they meant by having him for dinner, and he said he guessed Mr. Man would not be willing to have Erastus go out on an invitation like that, and that if Erastus came, Mr. Man might take a notion to visit the Hollow Tree himself. Then the Hollow Tree People all said, "Oh, never mind about Erastus! He's probably old and disagreeable anyway. We don't think we would care for him. But it was a nice story--very nice, indeed."

And pretty soon Mr. Dog said he'd been thinking about the robber animal, too, and had made up his mind that it might have been one of Mr. Cat's family--for Mr. Man's little boy and girl had a book with a nice poem in it about a robber cat, and a robber dog, too, though he didn't think that the dog could have been any of _his_ family. Mr. Cat, he said, would not be likely to care for Erastus, feathers and all, that way, and no doubt it really was Mr. Cat who robbed him. Mr. Dog said that he had once heard of a Mr. Cat who wanted to be king--perhaps after Mr. Lion had gone out of the king business, and that there was an old poem about it that Mr. Dog's mother used to sing to him, but he didn't think it had ever been put into a book. He said there were a good many things in it he didn't suppose the Hollow Tree People would understand because it was about a different kind of a country--where his mother had been born--but that if they really would like to hear it he would try to remember it for them, as it would be something different from anything they had been used to. Then the Hollow Tree People and their friends all said how glad they would be to hear it, for they always liked to hear about new things and new parts of the country; so Mr. Dog said that if some of the others would read or sing or dance their jigs first, perhaps it would come to him and he would sing it for them by and by.

Then Mr. Robin spoke up and said that he thought Mr. Dog's story had a good moral in it, and he said that _his_ story (Mr. Robin's, of course) was that kind of a story, too. Perhaps he'd better tell it now, he said, while their minds were running that way, though as for Mr. 'Possum's mind it seemed to be more on how good Erastus might be cooked than how good he had become in his behavior. He was sorry, he said, that his story didn't have any ducks in it, young or old, but that perhaps Mr.

'Possum and the others would be willing to wait for the nice pair of cooked ones now hanging in Mr. Crow's pantry, to be served at the end of the literary exercises.

But Mr. 'Possum said "No," he wasn't willing to wait any longer--that Mr. Dog's story and the mention of those nice cooked fowls was more than he could bear, and that if it was all the same to Mr. Robin and the others he voted to have supper first, and then he'd be better able to stand a strictly moral story on a full stomach.

Mr. Crow and Mr. 'c.o.o.n said that was a good idea, and Mr. Rabbit said he thought they'd better postpone Mr. Robin's story until the next evening, as Mr. 'Possum had taken up so much time with his arguments that he must be hungrier than usual, and if he put in as much more time eating, it would be morning before they were ready to go on with the literary programme.

Then they all looked at the clock and saw that it really was getting late, though that was the only way they could tell, for the snow covered all the windows and made no difference between day and night in the Hollow Tree.

THE "SNOWED-IN" LITERARY CLUB--Part II

MR. RABBIT STARTS SOME NEW AMUs.e.m.e.nTS

IT was still dark in the Hollow Tree when the Deep Woods People woke up next morning, but they knew what was the matter now, and could tell by the clock and the fire that it was day outside, even before Mr. 'Possum ran up to his room and looked out the window and came back shivering, because he said the snow was blowing and drifting and some had drifted in around his windows and made his room as cold as all outdoors. He said he was willing to stay by the fire while this spell lasted, and take such exercise as he needed by moving his chair around to the table when he wanted to eat.

Mr. 'c.o.o.n said that Mr. 'Possum might exercise himself on a little wood for the cook-stove in Mr. Crow's kitchen if he wanted any breakfast, and that if this spell kept up long enough, they wouldn't have anything left but exercise to keep them alive.

So Mr. 'Possum went down-stairs after an armful of stove-wood, and he stayed a good while, though they didn't notice it at the time. Then they all helped with the breakfast, and after breakfast they pushed back all the things and played "Blind Man's Buff," for Mr. Rabbit said that even if moving his chair from the fire to the table and back again was enough exercise for Mr. 'Possum, it wasn't enough for _him_, and the others said so, too.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SO THEN MR. RABBIT SAID THEY MUST CHOOSE WHO WOULD BE "IT"]

So then Mr. Rabbit said they must choose who would be "It" first, and they all stood in a row and Mr. Rabbit said:

"Hi, ho, hickory dee-- One for you and one for me; One for the ones you try to find, And one for the one that wears the blind,"

which was a rigmarole Mr. Rabbit had made up himself to use in games where somebody had to be "It," and Mr. Rabbit said it around and around the circle on the different ones--one word for each one--until he came to the word "blind" and that was Mr. 'Possum, who had to put on the handkerchief and do more exercising than any of them, until he caught Mr. Turtle, who had to be "It" quite often, because he couldn't get out of the way as well as the others.

And Mr. 'Possum was "It" a good deal, too, and Mr. 'c.o.o.n, and all the rest, though Mr. Robin was "It" less than anybody, because he was so little and spry that he could get out of the way.

Then when they were tired of "Blind Man's Buff" they played "p.u.s.s.y Wants a Corner" and "Forfeits," and Mr. 'Possum had to make a speech to redeem his forfeit, and he began:

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN" (though there were no ladies present)--"I am pleased to see you all here this evening" (though it wasn't evening) "looking so well dressed and well fed. It is better to be well fed than well dressed. It is better to be well dressed than not dressed at all.

It is better to be not dressed at all than not fed at all. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for your kind attention and applause"--though they hadn't applauded yet, but they did, right away, and said it was a good speech, and Mr. Crow said it reminded him that it was about dinner-time, and that he would need some more wood.

So Mr. 'Possum got right up to get the stove-wood again, which everybody thought was very good of Mr. 'Possum, who wasn't usually so spry and willing.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. 'POSSUM HAD TO PUT ON THE HANDKERCHIEF AND DO MORE EXERCISING THAN ANY OF THEM]

Then in the afternoon they had games again, but nice quiet games, for they were all glad to sit down, and they played "b.u.t.ton! b.u.t.ton! Who's Got the b.u.t.ton?" and n.o.body could tell when Mr. 'Possum had the b.u.t.ton, for his face didn't show it, because he was nearly always looking straight into the fire, and seemed to be thinking about something away off. And when the fire got low, he always jumped up and offered to go down into the store-room after the wood, and they all said how willing and spry Mr. 'Possum was getting all at once, and when he stayed a good while down-stairs they didn't think anything about it--not at the time--or if they did they only thought he was picking out the best pieces to burn. They played "Drop the Handkerchief," too, and when they got through Mr. Rabbit performed some tricks with the handkerchief and the b.u.t.ton that made even Mr. 'Possum pay attention because they were so wonderful.

There was one trick especially that Mr. Rabbit did a great many times because they liked it so much, and were so anxious to guess how it was done. Mr. Rabbit told them it was a trick that had come down to him from his thirty-second great-grandfather, and must never be told to any one.

It was a trick where he laid the b.u.t.ton in the centre of the handkerchief and then folded the corners down on it, and pressed them down each time so that they could see that the b.u.t.ton was still there, and he would let them press on it, too, to prove it, and then when he would lift up the handkerchief by the two corners nearest him there would be no b.u.t.ton at all, and he would find it on the mantel-shelf or perhaps on Mr. Crow's bald head, or in Mr. 'Possum's pocket, or some place like that. But one time, when Mr. Rabbit had done it over and over, and maybe had grown a little careless, he lifted the handkerchief by the corners nearest him, and there was the b.u.t.ton sticking fast, right in the centre of the handkerchief, for it had a little beeswax on it, to make it stick to one of the corners next to Mr. Rabbit, and by some mistake Mr. Rabbit had turned the b.u.t.ton upside down!

Then they all laughed, and all began to try it for themselves, and Mr.

Rabbit laughed too, though perhaps he didn't feel much like it, and told them that they had learned one of the greatest secrets in his family, and that he would now tell them the adage that went with it if they would promise never to tell either the secret or the adage, and they all promised, and Mr. Rabbit told them the adage, which was:

"When beeswax grows on the b.u.t.ton-tree, No one knows what the weather'll be."

[Ill.u.s.tration: WOULD FIND IT ON THE MANTEL-SHELF OR PERHAPS ON MR.

CROW'S BALD HEAD]

"That," said Mr. Rabbit, "is a very old adage. I don't know what it means exactly, but I'm sure it means something, because old adages always do mean something, though often n.o.body can find out just what it is, and the less they seem to mean the better they are, as adages.

There are a great many old adages in our family, and they have often got my ancestors out of trouble. When we didn't have an old one to fit the trouble we made a new one, and by-and-by it got old too, and useful in different ways, because by that time it didn't seem to mean anything special, and could be used almost anywhere."