The Hollow Tree Snowed-in Book Part 7

The Story Teller is not quite ready to answer. He has to fill his pipe first, and puff a little and look into the fire before he sits down, and the Little Lady climbs into her place. The Little Lady knows the Story Teller, and waits. When he begins to rock a little she knows he has remembered, and then pretty soon he tells her about the "Snowed-In"

Literary Club.

Well, the Hollow Tree People went to sleep there by the fire and they stayed asleep a long while, for they were tired with all the good times and all the good things to eat they had been having. And when they woke up once, they thought it was still night, for it was dark, though they thought it must be about morning, because the fire was nearly out, and Mr. 'Possum said if there was anybody who wasn't too stiff he wished they'd put on a stick of wood, as he was frozen so hard that he knew if he tried to move he'd break.

So Mr. Turtle, who had been drawn up mostly into his sh.e.l.l, and Mr. Dog, who was used to getting up at all hours of the night, stretched and yawned and crept down after some sticks and dry pieces and built up a good fire, and pretty soon they were all asleep again, as sound as ever.

And when they woke up next time it was still just as dark, and the fire had gone almost out again, and Mr. 'c.o.o.n and Mr. Crow, too, said they didn't understand it, at all, for a fire like that would generally keep all night and all day too, and here two fires had burned out and it was still as dark as ever. Then Mr. Crow lit a splinter and looked at the clock, and said he must have forgotten to wind it, or maybe it was because it was so cold, as it had stopped a little after twelve, and Mr.

'Possum said that from the way he felt it was no wonder the clock had stopped, for if he could tell anything by his feelings it must be at least day after to-morrow. He said he felt so empty that every time he breathed he could hear the wind whistle through his ribs.

That made Mr. Rabbit think of something, and he stepped over to the window. Then he pushed it up a little, and put out his hand. But he didn't put it out far, for it went right into something soft and cold.

Mr. Rabbit came over to where Mr. Crow was poking up the fire, bringing some of the stuff with him.

"Now," he said, "you can all see what's the matter. We're snowed in. The snow is up over the window, and that's why it's so dark. It may be up over the top of the tree, and we may have been asleep here for a week, for all we know."

Then they all gathered around to look at the snow, and went to the window and got some more, and tried to tell whether it was day or night, and Mr. Crow and Mr. 'c.o.o.n and Mr. 'Possum ran up-stairs to their rooms, and called back that it was day, for the snow hadn't come quite up to the tops of their windows.

And it was day, sure enough, and quite late in the afternoon at that, but they couldn't tell just what day it was, or whether they had slept one night, or two nights, or even longer.

Well, of course the first thing was to get something to eat and a big fire going, and even Mr. 'Possum scrambled around and helped carry wood, so he could get warm quicker. They still had a good deal to eat in the Hollow Tree, and they were not much worried. Mr. 'Possum and Mr.

'c.o.o.n remembered another time they were snowed in, when Mr. Crow had fed them on Johnnie cake and gravy, and they thought that if everything else gave out it would be great fun to live like that again.

When they had finished eating breakfast, or dinner, or whatever it was, for it was nearer supper-time than anything else, they began to think of things to do to amuse themselves, and they first thought they'd have some more stories, like Mr. Rabbit's.

But Mr. Rabbit, who is quite literary, and a good poet, said it would be better to make it a kind of a club, and each have a poem, or a story, or a song; or if anybody couldn't do any of those he must dance a jig.

Then they all remembered a poetry club that Mr. Rabbit had got up once and how nice it was, and they all said that was just the thing, and they got around the table and began to work away at whatever they were going to do for the "Snowed-In" Literary Club.

[Ill.u.s.tration: GOT AROUND THE TABLE AND BEGAN TO WORK]

Mr. Rabbit wasn't very long at his piece, and pretty soon he jumped up and said he was through, and Mr. 'Possum said that if that was so, he might go down and bring up some wood and warm up the brains of the rest of them. So Mr. Rabbit stirred up the fire, and sat down and looked into it, and read over his poem to himself and changed a word here and there, and thought how nice it was; and by-and-by Mr. Dog said he was through, and Mr. Robin said he was through, too.

Then Mr. Rabbit said he thought that would be more than enough for one evening anyway, and that the others might finish their pieces to-morrow and have them ready for the next evening.

So then they all gathered around the fire again, and everybody said that as Mr. Rabbit had thought of the club first, he must be the first to read his piece.

Mr. Rabbit said he was sure it would be more modest for some one else to read first, but that he was willing to start things going if they wanted him to. Then he stood up, and turned a little to the light, and took a nice position, and read his poem, which was called

SNOWED IN

_By J. Rabbit_

Oh, the snow lies white in the woods to-night-- The snow lies soft and deep; And under the snow, I know, oh, ho!

The flowers of the summer sleep.

The flowers of the summer sleep, I know, Snowed in like you and me-- Under the sheltering leaves, oh, ho, As snug and as warm as we-- As snug and as warm from the winter storm As we of the Hollow Tree.

Snowed in are we in the Hollow Tree, And as snug and as warm as they we be-- Snowed in, snowed in, Are we, are we, And as snug as can be in the Hollow Tree, The wonderful Hollow Tree.

Oh, the snow lies cold on wood and wold, But never a bit comes in, As we smoke and eat, and warm our feet, And sit by the fire and spin: And what care we for the winter gales, And what care we for the snow-- As we sit by the fire and spin our tales And think of the things we know?

As we spin our tales in the winter gales And wait for the snow to go?

Oh, the winds blow high and the winds blow low, But what care we for the wind and snow, Spinning our tales of the long ago As snug as snug can be?

For never a bit comes in, comes in, As we sit by the fire and spin, and spin The tales we know, of the long ago, In the wonderful Hollow Tree.

Mr. Rabbit sat down then, and of course everybody spoke up as soon as they could get their breath and said how nice it was, and how Mr. Rabbit always expressed himself better in poetry than anybody else could in prose, and how the words and rhymes just seemed to flow along as if he were reeling it off of a spinning-wheel and could keep it up all day.

And Mr. Rabbit smiled and said he supposed it came natural, and that sometimes it was harder to stop than it was to start, and that he _could_ keep it up all day as easy as not.

Then Mr. 'Possum said he'd been afraid that was what _would_ happen, and that if Mr. Rabbit hadn't stopped pretty soon that he--Mr. 'Possum, of course--would have been so tangled up in his mind that somebody would have had to come and undo the knot.

Then he said he wanted to ask some questions. He said he wanted to know what "wold" meant, and also what Mr. Rabbit meant by spinning their tails. He said he hadn't noticed that any of them were spinning their tails, and that he couldn't do it if he tried. He said that he could curl his tail and hang from a limb or a peg by it, and he had found it a good way to go to sleep when things were on his mind, and that he generally had better dreams when he slept that way.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. 'POSSUM WANTED TO KNOW WHAT MR. RABBIT MEANT BY SPINNING THEIR TAILS]

He said that of course Mr. Rabbit's poem had been about tails of the long ago, and he supposed that he meant the ones which his family had lost about three hundred years ago, according to Mr. Turtle, but that he didn't believe they ever could spin them much, or that Mr. Rabbit could spin what he had left.

Mr. 'Possum was going on to say a good deal more on the subject, but Mr.

Rabbit interrupted him.

He said he didn't suppose there was anybody else in the world whose food seemed to do him so little good as Mr. 'Possum's, and that very likely it was owing to the habit he had of sleeping with his head hanging down in that foolish way. He said he had never heard of anybody who ate so much and knew so little.

Of course, he said, everybody might not know what "wold" meant, as it wasn't used much except by poets who used the best words, but that it meant some kind of a field, and it was better for winter use, as it rhymed with "cold" and was nearly always used that way. As for Mr.

'Possum's other remark, he said he couldn't imagine how anybody would suppose that the tales he meant were those other tails which were made to wave or wag or flirt or hang from limbs by, instead of being stories to be told or written, just as the Deep Woods People were telling and writing them now. He said there was an old expression about having a peg to hang a tale on, and that it was most likely gotten up by one of Mr. 'Possum's ancestors or somebody who knew as little about such things as Mr. 'Possum, and that another old expression which said "Thereby hangs a tale" was just like it, because the kind of tales he meant didn't hang, but were always told or written, while the other kind always did hang, and were never told or written, but were only sometimes told or written about, and it made him feel sad, he said, to have to explain his poem in that simple way.

Then Mr. 'Possum said that he was sorry Mr. Rabbit felt that way, because he didn't feel at all that way himself, and had only been trying to discuss Mr. Rabbit's nice poem. He said that of course Mr. Rabbit couldn't be expected to know much about tails, never having had a real one himself, and would be likely to get mixed up when he tried to write on the subject. He said he wouldn't mention such things again, and that he was sorry and hoped that Mr. Rabbit would forgive him.

And Mr. Rabbit said that he was sorry, too--sorry for Mr. 'Possum--and that he thought whoever was ready had better read the next piece.

Then Mr. Dog said that he supposed that he was as ready as he'd ever be, and that he'd like to read his and get it off his mind, so he wouldn't be so nervous and could enjoy listening to the others. He wasn't used to such things, he said, and couldn't be original like Mr. Rabbit, but he knew a story that was told among the fowls in Mr. Man's barn-yard, and that he had tried to write it in a simple way that even Mr. 'Possum would understand. His story was about a duck--a young and foolish duck--who got into trouble, and Mr. Dog said he had made a few sketches to go with it, and that they could be handed around while he was reading. Now he would begin, he said, and the name of his story was

ERASTUS, THE ROBBER DUCK

_By Mr. Dog, with Sketches_

Once upon a time there was a foolish young duck named Erastus (called 'Rastus, for short). He was an only child, and lived with his mother in a small house on the bank of a pond at the foot of the farm-yard.

Erastus thought himself a brave duck; he would chase his shadow, and was not afraid of quite a large worm.

As he grew older he did not tell his mother everything. Once he slipped away, and went swimming alone. Then a worm larger than any he had ever seen came up out of the water, and would have swallowed Erastus if he had not reached the sh.o.r.e just in time, and gone screaming to his mother.

His mother said the great worm was a water-snake, and she told Erastus snake-stories which gave him bad dreams.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. DOG SAID HE HAD MADE A FEW SKETCHES]

Erastus grew quite fast, and soon thought he was nearly grown up. Once he tried to smoke with some other young ducks behind the barn. It made Erastus sick, and his mother found it out. She gave Erastus some unpleasant medicine, and made him stay in bed a week.

Erastus decided that he would run away. While his mother was taking her morning bath he packed his things in a little valise she had given him for Christmas. Then he slipped out the back door and made for the woods as fast as he could go. He had made up his mind to be a robber, and make a great deal of money by taking it away from other people.

He had begun by taking a small toy pistol which belonged to Mr. Man's little boy. He wore it at his side. His mother had read to him about robbers. Erastus also had on his nice new coat and pretty vest.