“I was thinking of going east,” said Mr. Bear, much relieved at the turn things were taking. And so the two friends parted.
Mr. Bear called out over his shoulder, “No use, Mr. Dog, of being back before eight o’clock a fine night like this.”
“Oh, no!” said Mr. Dog, much pleased and inwardly planning to get his tree trimmed in the forest, and then to have it all set up in the cottage a few moments before that hour.
So both friends hurried off—Mr. Dog to the west, to hang on his tree as fast as ever he could the strings of cranberries and pop-corn with which his pockets were bulging, and Mr. Bear to decorate his tree in the most beautiful manner and as rapidly as possible. And my! weren’t they busy? You may not believe it, but each of them got through the very same moment, which was exactly seventeen and a half minutes to eight o’clock, and each of them was exactly one half mile from home. Mr. Bear put his tree on his shoulder and started; Mr. Dog put his tree on his shoulder and started. Mr. Bear’s tree was bigger and heavier than Mr. Dog’s tree, but then Mr. Bear was stronger than Mr. Dog, so they both covered the ground at the same rate of speed.
Now I suppose you have already guessed what happened. It was sure to, wasn’t it? And it just did.
Mr. Dog, stealthily coming up the back way, and Mr. Bear, stealthily coming up the front way, met right at the cottage door, and I wish you had been there to see them. I don’t suppose their eyes were ever wider opened in all their lives; and as for their mouths, they were open too, and both their tongues were hanging out.
Mr. Dog was the quickest, so he began to laugh first, but Mr. Bear was not long in following, and they both laughed so hard they had to lean their beautiful Christmas trees up against the side of the cottage while they rolled over and over in the snow and neither one could stop.
But at last Mr. Bear caught his breath and sat up, and Mr. Dog, still wiping away tears of merriment with his paw, sat up too, and then it all came out—their wonderful plans and all the doings.
Well, the end of it was, there were two Christmas trees set up in Mr. Bear’s house that night and two very happy people.
The presents were truly a surprise after all, and they were exactly right. Each said so to the other, I don’t know how many times. Mr. Bear put on his muffler at once, though the cottage was as hot as hot could be, and Mr. Dog had so much perfumery on his handkerchief that they had to open the front door to air off. Mr. Dog began to do things with his tools at once, while gnawing ever and anon at his wonderful bone, and Mr. Bear ate a piece of blueberry pie that was big enough to give him seven kinds of nightmare, but didn’t.