The Hollow Tree and Deep Woods Book Part 20

[Ill.u.s.tration: HE ALMOST HAD TO LAUGH RIGHT OUT LOUD.]

It got heavier and heavier all the way, and he was glad enough to get there and find the latch string out. He set his bag down to rest a minute before climbing the stairs, and then opened the doors softly and listened. He didn't hear a thing except Mr. Crow and Mr. 'c.o.o.n and Mr.

'Possum breathing pretty low, and he knew they might wake up any minute, and he wouldn't have been caught there in the midst of things for a good deal. So he slipped up just as easy as anything, and when he got up in the big parlor room he almost had to laugh right out loud, for there were the stockings sure enough, all hung up in a row, and a card with a name on it over each one telling who it belonged to.

Then he listened again, and all at once he jumped and held his breath, for he heard Mr. 'Possum say something. But Mr. 'Possum was only talking in his sleep, and saying, "I'll take another piece, please," and Mr. Dog knew he was dreaming about the mince pie he'd had for supper.

So, then he opened his bag and filled the stockings. He put in mixed candy and nuts and little things first, and then the pipes and tobacco and candy canes, so they'd show at the top, and hung a nice dressed chicken outside. I tell you, they looked fine! It almost made Mr. Dog wish he had a stocking of his own there to fill, and he forgot all about them waking up, and sat down in a chair to look at the stockings. It was a nice rocking chair, and over in a dark corner where they wouldn't be apt to see him, even if one of them did wake up and stick his head out of his room, so Mr. Dog felt pretty safe now, anyway. He rocked softly, and looked and looked at the nice stockings, and thought how pleased they'd be in the morning, and how tired he was. You've heard about people being as tired as a dog; and that's just how Mr. Dog felt. He was so tired he didn't feel a bit like starting home, and by and by--he never did know how it happened--but by and by Mr. Dog went sound asleep right there in his chair, with all his Santa Claus clothes on.

And there he sat, with his empty bag in his hand and the nice full stockings in front of him, all night long. Even when it came morning and began to get light Mr. Dog didn't know it; he just slept right on, he was that tired. Then pretty soon the door of Mr. 'Possum's room opened and he poked out his head. And just then the door of Mr. 'c.o.o.n's room opened and he poked out his head. Then the door of the old black Crow opened and out poked his head. They all looked toward the stockings, and they didn't see Mr. Dog, or even each other, at all. They saw their stockings, though, and Mr. 'c.o.o.n said all at once:--

"Oh, there's something in my stocking!"

And then Mr. Crow says:--"Oh, there's something in my stocking, too!"

And Mr. 'Possum says:--"Oh, there's something in all our stockings!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: TO SEE MR. DOG JUMP RIGHT STRAIGHT OUT OF HIS CHAIR.]

And with that they gave a great hurrah all together, and rushed out and grabbed their stockings and turned around just in time to see Mr. Dog jump right straight up out of his chair, for he did not know where he was the least bit in the world.

"Oh, there's Santa Claus himself!" they all shouted together, and made a rush for their rooms, for they were scared almost to death. But it all dawned on Mr. Dog in a second, and he commenced to laugh and hurrah to think what a joke it was on everybody. And when they heard Mr. Dog laugh they knew him right away, and they all came up and looked at him, and he had to tell just what he'd done and everything; so they emptied out their stockings on the floor and ate some of the presents and looked at the others, until they almost forgot about breakfast, just as children do on Christmas morning.

Then Mr. Crow said, all at once, that he'd make a little coffee, and that Mr. Dog must stay and have some, and by and by they made him promise to spend the day with them and be there when the Robin and the Squirrel and Mr. Turtle and Jack Rabbit came, which he did.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

And it was snowing hard outside, which made it a nicer Christmas than if it hadn't been, and when all the others came they brought presents, too.

And when they saw Mr. Dog dressed up as Santa Claus and heard how he'd gone to sleep and been caught, they laughed and laughed. And it snowed so hard that they had to stay all night, and after dinner they sat around the fire and told stories. And they had to stay the next night, too, and all that Christmas week. And I wish I could tell you all that happened that week, but I can't, because I haven't time. But it was the very nicest Christmas that ever was in the Hollow Tree, or in the Big Deep Woods anywhere.

And this, said the Story Teller, is the very last Hollow Tree story, and there will be no more, for they all came out through Mr. Dog, and Mr.

Dog has gone away now into that Far Land of Evening where all good dogs go to when they get very, very old. He was friends with the Hollow Tree people to the last, and when he got too old to visit them, they used to come to see him, sometimes at night, when Mr. Man was asleep. And when Mr. Dog went away on his long journey beyond the sunset they were all so sorry, for they knew that no other Mr. Dog would ever be friends with them, and they were very sad in the Hollow Tree for a long time.

Then here's goodby to the old black Crow, And the rest, with a one, two, three!

And here's goodby to the Hollow, Hollow, Hollow-- Good-by to the Hollow Tree.

GOOD-BYE TO THE LITTLE LADY

WHAT SHE WISHES AND WHAT THE STORY TELLER SAYS

The Little Lady looks into the fire thoughtfully.

"And isn't there any more about the Hollow Tree?" she says at last.

The Story Teller looks into the fire, too.

"I'm afraid not," he answers.

"And won't you never know any more? Not ever--in a thousand days?"

"I--no, I'm afraid not."

"I wish we lived in a Hollow Tree," says the Little Lady.

From the House of Many Windows the Story Teller looks down on the dazzling lights and the clatter and jangle of the street. Then he remembers cool, musky ways in the dim woods, down which the padded feet of the forest people pa.s.s silently to hidden homes of peace. The Story Teller sighs.

"Yes, sweetheart," he says, "I have wished that sometimes, too."

THE END