The Hollow Tree Snowed-in Book / being a continuation of the stories about the Hollow Tree and Deep Woods people

by Albert Bigelow Paine

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