“Why, it must be here that the circus gets all its poles,” he exclaimed, as he looked about at the tremendously tall trees. “Goodness, the number of them! And the size! There’s one that’s every bit as big around as Hippo; and another that’s even larger than Elephant.” He recalled what the crow in the messenger’s cap had said about a million trillion clouds. “Yes,” he said, wagging his head rather wisely, “there must easily be that many trees.”
So, talking to himself as he went, and picking his way around the ends of gray, gnarled logs, Little Black Bear trudged deeper and deeper into the forest. As he advanced the gloom changed to night, and, though the traveler’s eyes were very bright and quite used to the dark, he finally decided to find a resting place until morning.
Now, Little Black Bear had never spent a night in the woods but was, on the contrary, accustomed to snuggling close in the straw on the floor of a splendid red and gold cage. Still, he had often heard his elders tell of the great wide world and he knew that hollow trees were supposed to make ideal lodging places. So he immediately set about to find one. He had not far to look, for very soon he came to a tree of unusual size and there, in its base, was a most inviting black hole. Going up to it, he found that the hole opened into a round room in the trunk. The floor of the room was packed close with leaves that crackled under foot as their visitor stepped over them.
“Why, I shall be most comfortable here,” cried Little Black Bear, “I had no idea one could find such houses as this away in the depths of the forest.”
In fact the discovery so delighted him that he began to sing the merriest kind of a tune and, noting that the walls of the tree caused his voice to seem much deeper than it really was, he sang the song all over again. Next—because he loved to hear the leaves crinkle and crunch—he broke into a jig and ended by rolling over and over on the floor. But in doing this he all but crushed the paper bag which held his lunch and that caused him to remember that perhaps he should dine before going to bed. So, getting up, he went out into the open and sat down with his back to the tree. Here he undid the bag and rummaged inside with his paw. He was very much tempted to eat the taffy-on-the-stick but finally decided on an apple. Munching upon this, he sat peering into the night.
Here and there winged little spots of light glowed for a moment and then were snuffed out again. They made Little Black Bear think of spangles. They were about that size. He thought they might be the fireflies of which he had heard. But, aside from the twinkle-dots, all was gloom broken only by immense columns that were even blacker than the night itself. And these Little Black Bear knew were the trunks of the great trees that stood near his own. How big everything was. How cool and sweet the air. How he wished all the other animals were with him. What a story he would have to tell!
From away in the distance came a faint “hoot, hoot, hoot.” Out of nearby trees dropped odd little sounds as though something were hopping about on the branches. But by now he had disposed of his apple and so carefully closing the paper bag, he rose to his feet and returned to the room in the tree.
“Gracious,” he said, “why, it must be late as anything. I was never up this long before in all my life. What a lark I am having—”
“I say, hush up, whoever you may be down below,” suddenly broke forth a voice from somewhere outside and over his head. “First you rouse a body with your singing, and now you insist upon talking to yourself.”
“Oh, please excuse me,” answered Little Black Bear, feeling very much ashamed. “I really didn’t mean to disturb any one.”