"WHAT made Mr. 'Possum so anxious to get the wood, and what made him stay down-stairs so long when he went after it?" asks the Little Lady next evening, when the Story Teller is lighting his pipe and getting ready to remember the history of the Hollow Tree.
"We're coming to that. You may be sure there was some reason for it, for Mr. 'Possum doesn't hurry after wood or stay long in a cold place if he can help it, unless he has something on his mind. Perhaps some of the Deep Woods People thought of that too, but if they did they didn't say anything—not at the time. I suppose they thought it didn't matter much, anyhow, if they got the wood."
So they went right on having a good time, keeping up a nice fire, and eating up whatever they had; for they thought the big snow couldn't last as long as their wood and their things to eat, and every day they went up to look out of the up-stairs windows to see how much had melted, and every day they found it just about the same, only maybe a little crustier on top, and the weather stayed very cold.
But they didn't mind it so long as they were warm and not hungry, and they played games, and recited their pieces, and sang, and danced, and said they had never had such a good time in all their lives.
But one day when Mr. Crow went down into the store-room for supplies he found that he was at the bottom of the barrel of everything they had, and he came up looking pretty sober, though he didn't say anything about it—not then, for he knew there were plenty of bones and odds and ends he could scrape up, and he had a little flour and some meal in his pantry; so he could make soup and gravy and johnny-cake and hash, which he did right away, and they all said how fine such things were for a change, and told Mr. Crow to go right on making them as long as he wanted to, even if the snow stayed on till spring. And Mr. 'Possum and Mr. 'Coon said it was like old times, and that Mr. Crow was probably the very best provider in the Big Deep Woods.
ONE DAY MR. CROW FOUND HE WAS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE BARREL OF EVERYTHING
Mr. Crow smiled, too, but he didn't feel like it much, for he knew that even johnny-cake and gravy wouldn't last forever, and that unless the snow went away pretty soon they would all be hungry and cold, for the wood was getting low, too.
And one morning, when Mr. Crow went to his meal-sack and his flour-bag and his pile of odds and ends there was just barely enough for breakfast, and hardly that. And Mr. Crow didn't like to tell them about it, for he knew they all thought he could keep right on making johnny-cake and gravy forever, because they didn't have to stop to think where things came from, as he did, and he was afraid they would blame him when there was nothing more left.