But what I'd really like to know
Is what makes goblins gobble?
"Perhaps they gobble 'cause they're imps—
And dreadfully imp-olite!
Pshaw, all they do is squabble hobble,
Gobble through the night!"
"Speaking of night," chuckled Snorer, balancing on the branch of a low tree, "we'll probably have to spend it in that forest below, for it would hardly be safe to travel in the dark and it'll be dark by the time we're down this mountain."
"Well," laughed Notta, "it wouldn't be the first time Bob and I have slept in a forest, and your snores ought to scare off any wild animals."
"That's so," sighed Nick, adjusting his nose, and quite satisfied he flew on ahead. The path was rough and uneven and, though Notta and Bob frequently slipped and slid, in another hour they were safely down the mountain. It was dusk as they stepped into the strange forest, and Bob fancied the trees were peering down at him kindly. They were so tired Notta paused under an immense maple tree and Nick leaned up against the trunk and fell instantly to snoring and stamping, while Notta began gathering branches and leaves for beds. The clown spread his old lion disguise over Bob's pile and the little boy, stretching out comfortably, gazed up at the first star twinkling merrily in the evening sky and thought how strange his narrow bed at the home would seem after this. The wind sighed in the tree tops with a gentle and soothing sound, and even Nick's snoring seemed comforting and pleasant to Bob Up.
"Bob," said Notta, as he dropped down beside him, "this is the friendliest forest I was ever in."