Tales of Hollow Tree Farm

THE HOLLOW TREE

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Paperback , First Printing , 85 pages. To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. To ask other readers questions about Hollow Tree , please sign up. Lists with This Book. This book is not yet featured on Listopia. Jun 02, Jessica rated it it was amazing. A collection of short stories across families and generations, all tied together by a connection to Hollow Tree horse farm.

The first novel of a dear friend, and I can't wait to see what's next! Feb 13, Alex rated it it was amazing Recommends it for: All readers, especially horse lovers. The unpublished product of an MFA thesis, Hollow Tree reads like the work of a much more established author. By exploring Hollow Tree Farm from so many perspectives, each of them accessible and authentic, Gold hands her readers the keys to the barn and invites them to join the Hollow Tree community. Hollow Tree Farm is a central part of many lives, and the farm's identity gains a new facet with each tale Gold tells.

Love, loss, and livelihoods intermingle in a setting so rich that it becomes a ch The unpublished product of an MFA thesis, Hollow Tree reads like the work of a much more established author. Love, loss, and livelihoods intermingle in a setting so rich that it becomes a character of its own, with a story held in every fence post, screen door, tree limb, and mud puddle. Each character becomes part of the farm as the farm becomes a permanent part of each character. The half-dozen stories of Hollow Tree are captivating in their own right, but together accomplish something even more impressive for a young author: Turtle's back and piled on as much as would stay on, and he kept telling them to put on more, until pretty soon Mr.

Crow and the rest walked and carried what was left. And when they got to the Hollow Tree it was just about sun-up, and Mr. Crow told him that he and Mr. Rabbit came to help them, and just as they got it about up it all came down again, and Mr. Crow said that if they'd all go away he'd set up the stove himself; which [Pg 85] he did in about a minute, and had a fire in it and the coffee on in no time.

Then the others rushed around and got the things straightened out, and a fire in the fireplace, and they said how nice rooms were, and when Mr. Crow called they all came hurrying down, and in about another minute the 'Coon and 'Possum and the Old Black Crow, with Mr.

Turtle, all sat down to the first meal in the Hollow Tree. It was then that Jack Rabbit read all of the "Hollow Tree Song" he had made for them, and they all sang it together; and then the storm that Mr. Crow had seen coming did come, and they shut all the doors and [Pg 86] windows tight, and sat before the fire and smoked and went to sleep, because they were so tired with being up all night. And that was the first day in the Hollow Tree, and how the Possum and Coon and Old Black Crow came to live there, and they live there still. The Little Lady waited until the Story Teller had lit his pipe and sat looking into the great open fire, where there was a hickory log so big that it had taken the Story Teller and the Little Lady's mother with two pairs of ice-tongs to drag it to the hearth and get it into place.

Pretty soon the Little Lady had crept in between the Story Teller's knees. Then in another minute she was on one of his knees, helping him rock. The Story Teller took his pipe from his mouth a moment, and sat thinking and gazing at the big log, which perhaps reminded him of one of the limbs of the Hollow Tree, where the 'Coon and 'Possum and the Old Black Crow lived and had their friends visit them that long-ago snowy Christmas-time.

Rabbit did tell that story. Coon said that if that was so, Mr. Robin laugh, and the rest wondered what those two gigglers had noticed that was funny. Then they all knocked the ashes out of their pipes again, and walked over to the window, and looked at the snow banking up outside and piling up on the bare limbs of the big trees. They said how early it got dark this time of year, especially on a cloudy day. Crow said they had just about time for one more story before supper, and that Mr.

Rabbit ought to tell now about how, a long time ago, his family had lost their tails. Rabbit didn't seem to feel very anxious to tell it, but they told him that he had promised, and that now was as good a time as any, so they went back and sat down, and Mr. Rabbit told them [Pg 91]. Fox, only a good deal longer and finer and softer, and very handsome.

Rabbit said that, Mr. Squirrel sniffed and twitched his nose and gave his nice bushy tail a flirt, but he didn't say anything. Rabbit went right on. He was my twenty-seventh great-grandfather, and was called Mr. He was young and smart then, and thought he was a good deal smarter than he really was, though he was smart enough and handsome enough to set the style for all the other rabbits, and not much ever happened to him, because he could beat anything running that there was in the Big Deep Woods.

He used to talk about it to almost everybody that came along, and one day when he met one of the Turtle family who used to be called Mr. Turtle, he just smiled a little and said: I believe I can beat you myself! Man's, half a mile away, and then beat you across it. Just travel along, and some time this afternoon, when you get down that way, I'll come back and let you see me go by.

But you'll have to look quick if you see me, for I'll be going fast. Tortoise said he didn't want any start at all, that he was ready to begin the race right then; and that made Grandpaw Hare laugh so loud that Mr. Fox heard him as he was passing, and came over to see what the fun was. Then he said that he hadn't much to do for a few minutes, and that he'd stay and act as judge. He thought a race like that wouldn't last long; and it didn't, though it wasn't at all the kind of a race he had expected. Tortoise and my twenty-seventh great-grandfather side by side, and then he stood off and said 'Go!

He was in no hurry, and he wanted to have some fun with Mr. He looked around to where Mr. Tortoise was coming straddling and panting along, and he laughed and rolled over to see how solemn he looked, and how he was travelling as if he meant to get somewhere before dark.

He was down on all fours so he could use all his legs at once, and anybody would think, to look at him, that he really expected to win that race. Tortoise to catch up again. Are you tied to something? Fox would laugh a good deal, too, and he told my ancestor to go on and finish the race—that he couldn't wait around there all day. And pretty soon he said if they were going to fool along like that, he'd just go down to the fence and take a nap till they got there; and for Grandpaw Rabbit to call to him when he really started to come, so he could wake up and judge the finish.

Fox he loped away to the fence and laid down and went to sleep in the shade, and Grandpaw Hare thought [Pg 95] it would be fun to pretend to be asleep, too. I've heard a story told about it that says that he really did go to sleep, and that Mr. Tortoise went by him and got to the fence before he woke up. But that is not the way it happened. My twenty-seventh great-grandfather was too smart to go to sleep, and even if he had gone to sleep, Mr. Tortoise made enough noise pawing and scratching along through the grass and gravel to wake up forty of our family.

What do you want to wake me up for when I'm trying to get a nap? He kept letting Mr. Tortoise get up a little closer and closer every time, until Mr. Tortoise would almost step on him before he would move. And that was just what Mr. Tortoise wanted, for about the next time he came along he came right up behind my ancestor, but instead of stepping on him, he gave his head a quick snap, just as if he were catching fish, and grabbed my Grandpaw Hare by that beautiful plumy tail, and held on, and pinched, and my ancestor gave [Pg 96] a squeal and a holler and set out for that rail fence, telling his troubles as he came.

Fox had gone sound asleep and didn't hear the rumpus at first, and when he did, he thought grandpaw was just calling to him to wake up and be ready to judge the race, so he sat up quick and watched them come. He saw my twenty-seventh great-grandfather sailing along, just touching the highest points, with something that looked like an old black wash-pan tied to his tail. Fox saw what it was, he just laid down and laughed and rolled over, and then hopped up on the top rail and called, out 'All right, I'm awake, Mr.

Come right along, Mr. Hare; you'll beat him yet! Tortoise loose, which of course he couldn't do, for, as we all know, whenever any of the Turtle family get a grip they never let go till it thunders, and this was a bright day. So pretty soon [Pg 97] grandpaw was up and running again with Mr.

Tortoise sailing out behind and Mr. Fox laughing to see them come, and calling out: You'll beat him yet! Fox made a mistake about that. Grandpaw Hare was really ahead, of course, when he came down the homestretch, but when he got pretty close to the fence he [Pg 98] made one more try to get Mr. Tortoise loose, and gave himself and his tail a great big swing, and Mr. Tortoise didn't let go quite quick enough, and off came my twenty-seventh great-grandfather's beautiful plumy tail, and away went Mr. Tortoise with it, clear over the top rail of the fence, and landed in a brier patch on the other side.

He forgot all about the race at first, and just raved about his great loss, and borrowed Mr. Fox's handkerchief to tie up what was left, and said that he never in the world could show his face before folks again. Fox stopped laughing as soon as he could, and was really quite sorry for him, and even Mr. Tortoise looked through the fence, and asked him if he didn't think it could be spliced and be almost as good as [Pg 99] ever. Hare would live to forgive him, and that now there was no reason why my grandpaw shouldn't beat him in the next race.

Tortoise didn't win the race at all—that he couldn't have covered that much ground in a half a day alone, and he asked Mr. Fox if he was going to let that great straddle-bug ruin his reputation for speed and make him the laughing-stock of [Pg ] the Big Deep Woods, besides all the other damage he had done. Fox scratched his head, and thought about it, and said he didn't see how he could help giving the race to Mr.

Tortoise, for it was to be the first one across the fence, and that Mr. Tortoise was certainly the first one across, and that he'd gone over the top rail in style. He didn't say another word, but just picked up his property that Mr. Tortoise handed him through the fence, and set out for home by a back way, studying what he ought to do to keep everybody from laughing at him, and thinking that if [Pg ] he didn't do something he'd have to leave the country or drown himself, for he had always been so proud that if people laughed at him he knew he could never show his face again.

Rabbit, is the true story of that old race between the Hare and the Tortoise, and of how the first Rabbit came to lose his tail. I've never told it before, and none of my family ever did; but so many stories have been told about the way those things happened that we might just as well have this one, which is the only true one so far as I know. Rabbit lit his pipe and leaned back and smoked. Dog said it was a fine story, and he wished he could [Pg ] have seen that race, and Mr. Turtle looked as if he wanted to say something, and did open his mouth to say it, but Mr. Crow spoke up, and asked what happened after that to Mr.

Rabbit's twenty-seventh great-grandfather, and how it was that the rest of the Rabbits had short tails, too. Rabbit said that that was another story, and Mr. Robin wanted him to tell it right away, but Mr. Crow said they'd better have supper now, and Mr. And all the time the snow was coming down outside and piling higher and higher, and they were being snowed in without knowing it, for it was getting too dark to see much when they tried again to look out the window through the gloom of the Big Deep Woods. They had been getting ready a good while for just such a time as this, and had carried in a lot of food, and they had a good many nice things down in the store-room where the wood was, but they didn't need those yet.

They just put on what they had left from their big dinner, and Mr. Crow stirred up a pan of hot biscuits by his best receipt, and they passed them back and forth across the table so much that Mr. And they talked a good deal about the stories that Mr. Rabbit had told them, and everybody thought how sly and smart Mr. Dog that way; and Mr. He said he didn't think it half as smart as Mr. Tortoise's trick on Mr. Rabbit's Grandpaw Hare, when he beat him in the foot-race and went over the fence first, taking Mr.

Hare's tail with him. And then they wondered if that had all really happened as Mr. Rabbit had told it—all but Mr. Turtle, who just sat and smiled to himself and didn't say anything at all, except "Please pass the biscuits," now and then, when he saw the plate being set down in front of Mr. Then by-and-by they all got through and hurried up and cleared off the table, and lit their pipes, and went back to the fire, and pretty soon Jack Rabbit began to tell.

He put up a sign that said 'Not at Home,' on his door, and then tried a few experiments, to see what could be done. Tortoise had told him he might, but that plan didn't work worth a cent. He never could get it spliced on straight, and if he did get it about right, it would lop over or sag down or something as soon as he moved, and when he looked at himself in the glass he made up his mind that he'd rather do without his nice plumy brush altogether than to go out into society with it in that condition.

Tortoise beat him in a foot-race. Lion lived in the Big Deep Woods in those days, and he was King. Whenever anything happened among the Deep Woods People that they couldn't decide for themselves, they went to where King Lion lived, in a house all by himself over by the Big [Pg ] West Hills, and he used to settle the question; and sometimes, when somebody that wasn't very old, and maybe was plump and tender, had done something that wasn't just right, King Lion would look at him and growl and say it was too bad for any one so young to do such things, and especially for them to grow up and keep on doing them; so he would have him for breakfast, or maybe for dinner, and that would settle everything in the easiest and shortest way.

Fox wouldn't go with him to King Lion, for they would be afraid to, after what they had done, so he made up his mind to go alone and tell him the whole story, because he was as sure as anything that King Lion would decide that he had really won the race, and would be his friend, which would make all the other Deep Woods People jealous and proud of him [Pg ] again, and perhaps make them wish they had nice bunches of white cottony fur in the place of long dragging tails that were always in the way. He had to pass by Mr.

Fox's house, and Mr. Fox called to him, but Grandpaw [Pg ] Hare just set up his ears as proud as could be and went by, lickety-split, without looking at Mr. But that wasn't so. King Lion had been sick for two or three days, and he was still in bed, and had to get up and get something around him before he could let Grandpaw in. But our family have always been pretty quick in their thoughts, and Grandpaw Hare spoke right up as polite as could be, and said he would do anything he could [Pg ] to find a nice young plump rabbit for King Lion, and that he would even be proud to be a king's breakfast himself, only he wasn't so very young nor so very plump, and, besides, there was that old prophecy about the king and the cotton-tailed rabbit, which of course, he said, King Lion must have heard about.

He sat down and asked Grandpaw Hare to tell him how he came to have a tail like that, and grandpaw told him, and it made the King laugh and laugh, until he got well, and he said it was the best joke he ever heard of, and that he'd have given some of the best ornaments off of his crown to have seen that race. He said that the King had sent him out to get one, and that King Lion would most likely be along himself pretty soon.

He said the sooner the Rabbit family took pattern after the new cotton-tailed style the more apt they'd be to live to a green old age and have descendants. The Rabbit family got in line by a big smooth stump that they picked out for the purpose, and grandpaw attended to the job for them, and called out 'Next! He didn't have to wait, either, for they didn't know what minute King Lion might come.

Fox came along and stopped to see the job, and helped grandpaw now and then when his arm got tired, and by evening there was a pile of tails by that stump as big as King Lion's house, and there never was such a call for [Pg ] the all-healing ointment as there was that night in the Big Deep Woods. Hare, and he moved out of the country and never came back, and there's never been a king in the Big Deep Woods since, so my twenty-seventh great-grandfather did some good, after all.

Rabbit, "is the whole story of the Hare and the Tortoise and how the Rabbit family lost their tails. It's never been told outside of our family before, but it's true, for it's been handed down, word for word, and if Mr. Tortoise were alive now they would say so. Rabbit filled his pipe and lit it, and Mr. Crow was just about to make some remarks, when Mr.

Turtle cleared his throat and said:. Turtle with their mouths wide open, and when they could say anything at all, they said:. You see, they could never get used to the notion of Mr. Turtle's being so old—as old as their twenty-seventh great-grandfathers would have been, if they had lived. Turtle, "and it all comes back to me as plain as day. It happened two hundred and fifty-eight years ago last June.

They used to call us the Tortoise family then, and I was a young fellow of sixty-seven and fond of a joke. But I was surprised when I went sailing over that fence, and I didn't mean to carry off Mr. Dear me, how time passes! I'm three hundred and twenty-five now, though I don't feel it. Then they all looked at Mr. Turtle again, for though they believed he was old, and might possibly have been there, they thought it pretty strange that he could be the very Mr. Tortoise who had won the race.

Turtle got up and began taking off his coat, and all the others began to get out of the way, for they didn't know what was going to happen to Mr. Turtle, and that Mr. Turtle hadn't understood the way he meant it at all. Turtle wasn't the least bit mad. He just laid off his coat, quietly, and unbuttoned his shirt collar, and told Mr.

Crow to look on the back of his shell. Dog held a candle, and they all looked, one after another, and there, sure enough, carved right in Mr. Turtle's shell, were the words:. And all the rest of the forest people said that a thing like that was worth carving on anybody's shell that had one, and when Mr. Turtle put on his coat they gave him the best seat by the fire, and sat and looked at him and asked questions about it, and finally all went to sleep in their chairs, while the fire burned low and the soft snow was banking up deeper and deeper, outside, in the dark.

The Story Teller is not quite ready to answer. He has to fill his pipe first, and puff a little and look into the fire before he sits down, and the Little Lady climbs into her place. The Little Lady knows the Story Teller, and waits. When he begins to rock a little she knows he has remembered, and then pretty soon he tells her about the Snowed-In Literary Club. Well, the Hollow Tree People went to sleep there by the fire and they stayed asleep a long while, for they were tired [Pg ] with all the good times and all the good things to eat they had been having.

And when they woke up once, they thought it was still night, for it was dark, though they thought it must be about morning, because the fire was nearly out, and Mr. Turtle, who had been drawn up mostly into his shell, and Mr. Dog, who was used to getting up at all hours of the night, stretched and yawned and crept down after some sticks and dry pieces and built up a good fire, and pretty soon they were all asleep again, as sound as ever.

And when they woke up next time it was still just as dark, and the fire had gone almost out again, and Mr. Crow, too, said they didn't understand it, at all, for a fire like that would generally keep all night and all day too, and here two fires had burned out and it was still as dark as ever. Crow lit a splinter and looked at the clock, and said he must have forgotten to wind it, or maybe it was because it was so cold, as it had stopped a little after twelve, and Mr. He said he felt so empty that every time [Pg ] he breathed he could hear the wind whistle through his ribs.

Rabbit think of something, and he stepped over to the window. Then he pushed it up a little, and put out his hand. But he didn't put it out far, for it went right into something soft and cold. Rabbit came over to where Mr. Crow was poking up the fire, bringing some of the stuff with him.

The snow is up over the window, and that's why it's so dark. It may be up over the top of the tree, and we may have been asleep here for a week, for all we know. Then they all gathered around to look at the snow, and went to the window and got some more, and tried to tell whether it was day or night, and Mr.

And it was day, sure enough, and quite late in the afternoon at that, but they couldn't tell just what day it was, or whether they had slept one night, or two nights, or even longer. Well, of course the first thing was to get something to eat and a big fire going, and even Mr. They still had a good deal to eat in the Hollow Tree, and they were not much worried. Crow had fed them on Johnnie cake and gravy, and they thought that if everything else gave out it would be great fun to live like that again.

When they had finished eating breakfast, or dinner, or whatever it was, for it was nearer supper-time than anything else, they began to think of things to do to amuse themselves, and they first thought they'd have some more stories, like Mr. Rabbit, who is quite literary, and a good poet, said it would be better to make it a kind of a club, and each have a poem, or a story, or [Pg ] a song; or if anybody couldn't do any of those he must dance a jig.

Then they all remembered a poetry club that Mr. Rabbit had got up once and how nice it was, and they all said that was just the thing, and they got around the table and began to work away at whatever they were going to do for the "Snowed-In" Literary Club. Rabbit wasn't very long at his piece, and pretty soon he jumped up and said he was through, and Mr. Dog said he was through, and Mr.

Robin said he was through, too. Rabbit said he thought that would be more than enough for one evening anyway, and that the others might finish their pieces to-morrow and have them ready for the next evening. So then they all gathered around the fire again, and everybody said that as Mr. Rabbit had thought of the club first he must be the first to read his piece. Rabbit said he was sure it would be more modest for some one else to read first, but that he was willing to start things going if they wanted him to.

Then he stood up, and turned a little to the light, and took a nice position, and read his poem, which was called.

Oh, the snow lies white in the woods to-night— The snow lies soft and deep; And under the snow, I know, oh, ho! The flowers of the summer sleep. The flowers of the summer sleep, I know, [Pg ] Snowed in like you and me— Under the sheltering leaves, oh, ho, As snug and as warm as we— As snug and as warm from the winter storm As we of the Hollow Tree. Oh, the snow lies cold on wood and wold, But never a bit comes in, As we smoke and eat, and warm our feet, And sit by the fire and spin: And what care we for the winter gales, And what care we for the snow— As we sit by the fire and spin our tales And think of the things we know?

As we spin our tales in the winter gales And wait for the snow to go? Oh, the winds blow high and the winds blow low, But what care we for the wind and snow, Spinning our tales of the long ago As snug as snug can be? For never a bit comes in, comes in, As we sit by the fire and spin, and spin The tales we know, of the long ago, In the wonderful Hollow Tree. Rabbit sat down then, and of course everybody spoke up as soon as they could get their breath and said how nice it was, and how Mr.

Rabbit always expressed himself better in poetry than anybody else could in prose, and how the words and rhymes just seemed to flow along as if he were reeling it off of a spinning-wheel and could keep it up all day. Rabbit smiled and said he supposed it came natural, and that sometimes it was harder to stop than it was to start, and that he could keep it up all day as easy as not. Rabbit hadn't stopped pretty soon that he—Mr. Then he said he wanted to ask some questions. He said he wanted to know what "wold" meant, and also what Mr.

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Hollow Tree Snowed In Book, by Albert Bigelow Paine.

Rabbit meant by spinning their tails. He said he hadn't noticed that any of them were spinning their tails, and that he couldn't do it if he tried.

He said that he could curl his tail and hang from a limb or a peg by it, and he had found it a good way to go to sleep when things were on his mind, and that he generally had better dreams when he slept that way. He said that of course Mr. Rabbit's poem had been about tails of the long ago, and he supposed that he meant the ones which his family had lost about three hundred years ago, according to Mr. Turtle, but that he didn't believe they ever could spin them much, or that Mr.

Rabbit could spin what he had left. He said he didn't suppose there was anybody else in the world whose food [Pg ] seemed to do him so little good as Mr. He said he had never heard of anybody who ate so much and knew so little. Of course, he said, everybody might not know what "wold" meant, as it wasn't used much except by poets who used the best words, but that it meant some kind of a field, and it was better for winter use, as it rhymed with cold and was nearly always used that way. He said there was an old expression about having a peg [Pg ] to hang a tale on, and that it was most likely gotten up by one of Mr.

Rabbit felt that way, because he didn't feel at all that way himself, and had only been trying to discuss Mr. Rabbit couldn't be expected to know much about tails, never having had a real one himself, and would be likely to get mixed up when he tried to write on the subject. He said he wouldn't mention such things again, and that he was sorry and hoped that Mr. Rabbit would forgive him. Rabbit said that he was sorry, too—sorry for Mr. Dog said that he supposed that he was as ready as he'd ever be, and that he'd like to read his and get it off his mind, so he wouldn't be so nervous and could enjoy listening to the others.

He wasn't used to such things, he [Pg ] said, and couldn't be original like Mr. Rabbit, but he knew a story that was told among the fowls in Mr. Man's barnyard, and that he had tried to write it in a simple way that even Mr. His story was about a duck—a young and foolish duck—who got into trouble, and Mr. Dog said he had made a few sketches to go with it, and that they could be handed around while he was reading. Now he would begin, he said, and the name of his story was.

Once upon a time there was a foolish young duck named Erastus called 'Rastus, for short. He was an only child, and lived with his mother in a small house on the bank of a pond at the foot of the farm-yard. Erastus thought himself a brave duck; he would chase his shadow, and was [Pg ] not afraid of quite a large worm. As he grew older he did not tell his mother everything. Once he slipped away, and went swimming alone.

Then a worm larger than any he had ever seen came up out of the water, and would have swallowed Erastus if he had not reached the shore just in time, and gone screaming to his mother. His mother said the great worm was a water-snake, and she told Erastus snake-stories which gave him bad dreams. Erastus grew quite fast, and soon thought he was nearly grown up. Once he tried to smoke with some other young ducks behind the barn. It made Erastus sick, and his mother found it out. She gave Erastus some unpleasant medicine, and made him stay in bed a week.

Erastus decided that he would run away. While his mother was taking her morning bath he packed his things in a little valise she had given him for Christmas.

Walkthrough Menu

Then he slipped out the back door and made for the woods as fast as he could go. He had made up his mind to be a robber, and make a great deal of money by taking it away from other people. He had begun by taking a small toy pistol which belonged to Mr. He wore it at his side. His mother had read to him about robbers. Erastus also had on his nice new coat and pretty vest. He did not rob anybody that day. There was nothing in the woods but trees and vines. Erastus tripped over the vines and hurt himself, and lost the toy pistol.

Then it came night, and he was very lonesome. For the first time in his life Erastus missed his mother. There was a nice full moon, but Erastus did not care for it. Some of the black shadows about him looked as if they might be live things. By-and-by he heard a noise near him. Erastus the Robber Duck started to run; but he was lost, [Pg ] and did not know which way to go. All at once he was face to face with some large animal.

It wore a long cape and a mask. It also carried a real pistol which it pointed at Erastus and told him to hold up his wings. Erastus the Robber Duck held up his wings as high as possible, and tried to get them higher. It did not seem to Erastus that he could hold them up high enough. Then the robber took all the things that Erastus had in his pockets. He took his new knife and his little watch; also the nice bag which his mother had given him for Christmas.

Erastus kept his wings up a good while after the robber had gone. He was afraid the robber had not gone far enough. When he put them down they were cramped and sore. Then he heard something again, and thought it was the robber coming back after his clothes. Erastus fled with great speed, taking off his garments as he ran. At last he reached the edge of the wood, not far from where he lived. It was just morning, and his mother saw him coming. She looked sad, and embraced him. Erastus was not allowed to go swimming or even to leave the yard for a long time. Whenever he remembered that night in the woods he shivered, and his mother thought he [Pg ] had a chill.

Then she would put him to bed and give him some of the unpleasant medicine. Erastus did not tell his mother all that had happened that night for a good while. He was ashamed to do so. But one day when he seemed quite sick and his mother was frightened, he broke down and told her all about it.

Then his mother forgave him, and he got well right away. Dog had been reading his story the Hollow Tree People—the 'Coon and the 'Possum and the Old Black Crow—had been leaning forward and almost holding their breath, and Mr. Dog felt a good deal flattered when he noticed how interested they were. When he sat down he saw that Mr.

Then before any of the others could say a word, Mr. He said that he wasn't a judge of stories, but that he was a judge of ducks—young ducks, or old either—and that no young duck could pass the night in the Big Deep Woods and get home at sunrise or any other time, unless all the other animals were snowed in or locked up in a menagerie, and that the animal that had met [Pg ] Erastus might have robbed him, of course, but he would have eaten him first, and then carried off what was left, unless, of course, that robber was a rabbit, and he said that he didn't believe any rabbit would have spunk enough to be in that business.

Rabbit was about to say something just then, but Mr. Rabbit, who was plenty brave enough, but too much of a gentleman to be out robbing people at night when he could be at home in bed asleep. I wrote it down as I heard it among Mr. Man's fowls, and I know the duck that they still call [Pg ] Erastus, and he's the finest, fattest—". Or perhaps you could bring him to see us. Invite him to spend an evening with us in the Hollow Tree. Tell him we will have him for dinner and invite our friends.

Dog knew what they meant by having him for dinner, and he said he guessed Mr. Man would not be willing to have Erastus go out on an invitation like that, and that if Erastus came, Mr. Man might take a notion to visit the [Pg ] Hollow Tree himself. He's probably old and disagreeable anyway. We don't think we would care for him. But it was a nice story—very nice, indeed. Dog said he'd been thinking about the robber animal, too, and had made up his mind that it might have been one of Mr. Man's little boy and girl had a book with a nice poem in it about a robber cat, and a robber dog, too, though he didn't think that the dog could have been any of his family.

Cat, he said, would not be likely to care for Erastus, feathers and all, that way, and no doubt it really was Mr. Cat who robbed him. Dog said that he had once heard of a Mr. Cat who wanted to be king—perhaps after Mr. Lion had gone out of the king business, and that there was an old poem about it that Mr. Dog's mother used to sing to him, but he didn't think it had ever been put into a book.

He said there were a good many things in it he didn't suppose the Hollow Tree People would understand because it was about a different kind of a country—where his mother had been born—but that if they really would like to hear it he would try to remember it for them, as it would be something different from anything they had been used to.

Then the Hollow Tree People and their friends all said how glad they would be to hear it, for they always liked to hear about [Pg ] new things and new parts of the country; so Mr.

Grim Tales: Crimson Hollow Walkthrough

Dog said that if some of the others would read or sing or dance their jigs first, perhaps it would come to him and he would sing it for them by and by. Robin spoke up and said that he thought Mr. Dog's story had a good moral in it, and he said that his story Mr. Robin's, of course was that kind of a story, too.

Perhaps he'd better tell it now, he said, while their minds were running that way, though as for Mr. He was sorry, he said, that his [Pg ] story didn't have any ducks in it, young or old, but that perhaps Mr. Crow's pantry, to be served at the end of the literary exercises. Dog's story and the mention of those nice cooked fowls was more than he could bear, and that if it was all the same to Mr.

Robin and the others he voted to have supper first, and then he'd be better able to stand a strictly moral story on a full stomach. Rabbit said he thought they'd better postpone Mr. Robin's story until the next evening, as Mr. Then they all looked at the clock and saw that it really was getting late, though that was the only way they could tell, for the snow covered all the windows and made no difference between day and night in the Hollow Tree. It was still dark in the Hollow Tree when the Deep Woods People woke up next morning, but they knew what was the matter now, and could tell by the clock and the fire that it was day outside, even before Mr.

He said he was willing to stay by the fire while this spell lasted, and take such exercise as he needed by moving his chair around to the table when he wanted to eat. Crow's kitchen if he [Pg ] wanted any breakfast, and that if this spell kept up long enough, they wouldn't have anything left but exercise to keep them alive.

Then they all helped with the breakfast, and after breakfast they pushed back all the things and played Blind Man's Buff, for Mr. Rabbit said that even if moving his chair from the fire to the table and back again was enough exercise for Mr. Rabbit said they must choose who would be It first, and they [Pg ] all stood in a row and Mr.

See a Problem?

Rabbit had made up himself to use in games where somebody had to be "It," and Mr. Rabbit said it around and around the circle on the different ones—one word for each one—until he came to the word blind and that was Mr. Turtle, who had to be "It" quite often, [Pg ] because he couldn't get out of the way as well as the others. Robin was "It" less than anybody, because he was so little and spry that he could get out of the way. It is better to be well fed than well dressed.

It is better to be well dressed than not dressed at all. It is better to be not dressed at all than not fed at all. Ladies and [Pg ] gentlemen, I thank you for your kind attention and applause"—though they hadn't applauded yet, but they did, right away, and said it was a good speech, and Mr. Crow said it reminded him that it was about dinner-time, and that he would need some more wood. Then in the afternoon they had games again, but nice [Pg ] quiet games, for they were all glad to sit down, and they played "Button!

Who's Got the Button? And when the fire got low, he always jumped up and offered to go down into the store-room after the wood, and they all said how willing and spry Mr. They played "Drop the Handkerchief", too, and when they got through Mr. Rabbit performed some tricks with the handkerchief and the button that made even Mr. There was one trick especially that Mr. Rabbit did a great many times because they liked it so much, and were so anxious to guess how it was done.

Rabbit told them it was a trick that had come down to him from his thirty-second great-grandfather, and must never be told to any one. It was a trick where he laid the button in the centre of the handkerchief and then folded the corners down on it, and pressed them down each time so that they could see that the button was still there, and he would let them press [Pg ] on it, too, to prove it, and then when he would lift up the handkerchief by the two corners nearest him there would be no button at all, and he would find it on the mantel-shelf or perhaps on Mr.

Crow's bald head, or in Mr. But one time, when Mr. Rabbit had done it over and over, and maybe had grown a little careless, he lifted the handkerchief by the corners nearest him, and there was the button sticking fast, right in the centre of the handkerchief, for it had a little beeswax on it, to make it stick to one of the corners next to Mr. Rabbit, and by some mistake Mr. Rabbit had turned the button upside down! Then they all laughed, and all began to try it for themselves, and Mr. Rabbit laughed too, though perhaps he didn't feel much like it, and told them that they had learned one of the greatest secrets in his family, [Pg ] and that he would now tell them the adage that went with it if they would promise never to tell either the secret or the adage, and they all promised, and Mr.

Rabbit told them the adage, which was:. Rabbit, "is a very old adage. I don't know what it means exactly, but I'm sure it means something, because old adages always do mean something, [Pg ] though often nobody can find out just what it is, and the less they seem to mean the better they are, as adages.

There are a great many old adages in our family, and they have often got my ancestors out of trouble. When we didn't have an old one to fit the trouble we made a new one, and by-and-by it got old too, and useful in different ways, because by that time it didn't seem to mean anything special, and could be used almost anywhere. Then the Deep Woods People all said there was never anybody who knew so much and could do so many things as Mr.

Jack Rabbit, and how proud they all were to have him in their midst, and Mr. Rabbit showed them how to do all the tricks he knew, and they all practised them and tried them on each other until Mr. Crow said he must look after the supper, and Mr. And after supper they all sat around the fire again and smoked a little before anybody said anything, until by-and-by Mr.

Rabbit said that they would go on now with the literary club, and that Mr. Robin might read the story he had mentioned the night before. Robin got up, and stood on a chair, and made a nice bow. He said it was not really his own story he had [Pg ] written, but one that his grandmother used to tell him sometimes, though he didn't think it had ever been put into a book. Rabbit spoke up and said that that didn't matter, that of course everybody couldn't be original, and that the story itself was the main thing and the way you told it.

He said if Mr. Robin would go right on with the story now it would save time. So then they all knocked the ashes out of their pipes—all except Mr. Robin, who began right off to read his story: Once upon a time there was a Fox who lived at the foot of a hill and had a nice garden. One morning when he began to hoe in it he got tired, and the sun was very hot. Then the Fox didn't like to hoe any more, and made up his mind that it wasn't very pleasant to have a garden, anyway.

So then he started out to travel and find pleasant things. He put on his best clothes, and the first house he came to belonged to a Rabbit who kept bees. And the Rabbit showed the Fox his bees and how to take out the honey. And the Fox said, "What pleasant work! But when he did there was a bee on the honey, and it stung the Fox on the nose. And that hurt the Fox, and his nose began to swell up, and he said:. So the Fox travelled on, and the next house he came to belonged to a Crow who made pies.

And the Fox looked at him awhile and said, "What pleasant work!

J. M. CONDÉ

Then he said, "No, it is not pleasant work—not for me! So the Fox went on again, and the next house he came to belonged to a 'Coon who milked cows. And the Fox watched him milk, and pretty soon he said: And the Fox was mad, and said: And the next house the Fox came to belonged to a Cat who played the fiddle. And the Fox listened awhile and said: But when he started down the road playing, a Man ran around the corner and shot a loud gun at him, and that was not pleasant, either , though the Cat seemed to enjoy it more than ever.

So the Fox kept on travelling and doing things that he thought would be pleasant , but that did not turn out to be pleasant—not for him —until by-and-by he had travelled clear around the world and had come up on the other side, back to his own garden again. And his garden was just the same as he had left it, only the things had grown bigger, and there were some weeds. And the Fox jumped over the fence and commenced to hoe the weeds , and pretty soon he said, "Why, this is pleasant! So he kept on hoeing and finding it pleasant until by-and-by the weeds were all gone , and the Rabbit and the Crow and the Cat and the 'Coon came and traded him honey and pies and milk and music for vegetables, because he had the best garden in the world.

And he has yet! Robin got through and sat down, Mr. Squirrel spoke up and said it was a good story because it had a moral lesson in it and taught folks to like the things they knew best how to do, and Mr. Robin spoke up and said that Mr. Robin should speak in that cross way when he had only meant to be kind and show him the mistake in his story, so he could fix it right. Rabbit said that as Mr. But before he began Mr. Robin said that as they had not cared much about his story he would like to recite a few lines he had thought of, which would perhaps explain how he felt, and all the animals said, "Of course, go right on," and Mr.

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Robin bowed and recited a little poem he had made, called [Pg ]. How came a little bird like me A place in this fine group to win? My mind is small—it has to be— The little place I keep it in. How came a little bird like me To be here in the Hollow Tree? When all the others know so much, And are so strong and gifted too, How can I dare to speak of such As I can know, and think, and do? How can a little bird like me Belong here in the Hollow Tree?

Robin finished that, all the others spoke right up and [Pg ] said that Mr. Robin must never write anything so sad as that again. They said his story was just as good as it could be, and that Mr. Robin was one of the smartest ones there; and Mr. Then he ran over to Mr. Robin, and was going to embrace him and weep on his shoulder, and would very likely have mashed him if Mr.

Turtle hadn't dragged him back to his seat and told him that he had done damage enough to people's feelings without killing anybody, and the best thing he could do now would be to go on with a story of his own if he had any. Dog sang the poem which he had promised the evening before because, he said, singing would be a nice thing to go to sleep on. Dog's song was called.

There was cat who kept a store, With other cats for customers. His milk and mice All packed in ice His catnip all in canisters. Fresh milk he furnished every day— [Pg ] Two times a day and sometimes three— And so this cat Grew rich and fat And proud as any cat could be. But though so fat and rich he grew He was not satisfied at all— At last quoth he, "A king I'll be Of other cats both great and small. Then hied he to the tinner cat, Who made for him a tinsel crown, And on the street, A king complete, He soon went marching up and down.

Now, many cats came out to see, And some were filled with awe at him; While some, alack, Behind his back [Pg ] Did laugh and point a paw at him. Mice, milk, and catnip did he scorn; He went to business less and less— And everywhere He wore an air Of arrogance and haughtiness. His clerks ate catnip all day long— They spent much time in idle play; They left the mice From off the ice— [Pg ] They trusted cats who could not pay.

While happy in his tin-shop crown Each day the king went marching out, Elate because He thought he was The kind of king you read about. But lo, one day, he strolled too far, And in a dim and dismal place A cat he met, Quite small, and yet A solemn look was in his face. One fiery eye this feline wore— A waif he was of low degrees— No gaudy dress Did he possess, Nor yet a handsome cat was he.

But lo, he smote that spurious king And stripped him of his tinsel crown, Then like the wind Full close behind He chased His Highness into town. With cheers his subjects saw him come. He did not pause—he did not stop, But straight ahead He wildly fled Till he was safe within his shop.

He caught his breath and gazed about— A sorry sight did he behold: No catnip there Or watchful care— No mice and milk and joy of old. He heaved a sigh and dropped a tear— [Pg ] He sent those idle clerks away— Quoth he, "My pride Is satisfied; This kingdom business does not pay. It must be a true story, because Mr. He just tells what he knows, and this time he told. I went to live with them soon after that, because I lost both of my parents one night when Mr.

Man was hunting in the Black Bottoms for something to put in a pan with some sweet potatoes he had raised that year, and I suppose I would have been used with sweet potatoes too if I hadn't come away from there pretty lively instead of trying our old playing-dead trick on Mr. Man and his friends. Man might know the trick, so I didn't wait to try it myself, but took out for the Wide Paw-paw Hollows, to visit Uncle Silas Lovejoy, who was an uncle on my mother's side, and Aunt Melissy and my little cousins; and they all seemed glad to see me, especially my little cousins, until they found they had to give me some of their things and most of their food, because I was young [Pg ] and growing, besides being quite sad about my folks, and so, of course, had to eat a good deal to keep well and from taking my loss too hard.

I remember how she used to keep me and my little cousins busy until sometimes I wished I had stayed with my folks and put up with the sweet potatoes and let Uncle Silas and his family alone. Rabbit said that he supposed, of course, Mr. Man's chickens were not kept [Pg ] up in such close, unhealthy places, but were allowed to roost out in the open air, on the fences and in the trees. He said he didn't think their house was quite stylish enough either, which he knew would strike Aunt Melissy, who was a Glenwood, and primpy, and fond of the best things.

We had everything in bundles or tied together, and Aunt Melissy had arranged a big bundle for Uncle Silas to carry, and several things to tie and hang about on his person in different places, and she had fixed up the hired man too, besides some bundles for me and my little cousins. Nobody could guess a guess like that, even if he was the best guesser in the world and made his living that way. But the Hollow Tree People said they didn't want to guess, and they did want Mr. It happened just as I'm going to tell you.

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