Horatio struck the violin with a long vigorous sweep.
"Oh, we'll have a tree for Christmas in this Louisiana isthmus,
Where the orange trees are waving and the jasmines are in bloom;
And I'll have a Christmas dinner, if I don't I am a sinner,
And I'll eat it if it sends me to my doom—doom—doom."
Bo laughed again. He had never seen Horatio in a better humor.
"If you eat too much pie it may send you to your doom—doom—doom," he said. "Hurry back, now, with that tree. You can pull it up by the roots and we'll plant it again here. Then it will keep right on growing."
The bear set out up the stream and the boy busied himself with building a fire and taking out of a sack a lot of food that had been given them by the planters during the afternoon. He spread this on the leaves and moss and then sat down and gazed into the bright blaze. It was pleasant and warm and he was quite tired. After a while he wondered sleepily why the Bear didn't come back, and concluded he was having a hard time pulling up the tree. Then he began thinking of all the adventures they had had together and of the little cub bear and the cruel Italian.
"I was tempted to let Horatio at him," he thought. "A man like that should be beaten until he couldn't stand. That poor little creature! How wistfully he looked at us. He kept whining—perhaps he was telling Ratio something."
The little boy's head nodded forward now and then and presently he slept. He slept soundly and the moments flew by unheeded. He was having a long dream about old man Todd and the girls and the two candy hearts, when suddenly there arose close at hand such a commotion, such a mingling of excited language, fierce snarls and crashing of brush that the little boy leaped to his feet wildly.