when buster woke the next morning the sun was just peeping above the trees. he had slept so soundly that he couldn’t recall right away all that had happened the previous night. he opened his eyes, and was surprised when he found that nothing around him was familiar.
he grunted and rose to his feet, blinking at the sun. then it all returned to him. he remembered the jolt and crash, and the splintering of the roof of his car. he rubbed his head to see if the bruise still hurt him, and winced when it pained him.
“i wonder what happened to the old lion,” he said, grinning. “he must have lost all his teeth last night.”
then he thought of chiquita. if she was in the wreck, too, she may have lost something more than her teeth. suppose she had lost her life! this thought grieved buster.
“i must go back and find out,” he said. “she’ll miss me.”
[96]he waddled away through the bushes until he came to a road that was unfamiliar to him. which way did he go to reach the railroad? he started up it, but hadn’t gone far before he saw a man approaching, carrying a basket on his arm. buster was less alarmed than the man apparently, for with a shriek of terror the latter dropped his basket and ran up the road so fast that he was soon out of sight.
“what a foolish thing to do,” laughed buster. “he must have had an evil conscience or he wouldn’t be frightened like that.”
he waddled up to the basket the man had dropped. one sniff at its contents made his heart jump with joy. it was filled with nice fresh bread, rolls, and two blackberry pies.
buster didn’t consider it stealing. the man had left the basket, and it belonged to any one who found it. he was very hungry, but bear-like or boy-like (i don’t know which to call it) he began with the blackberry pies instead of the bread. he ate them up rapidly, stuffing them in his mouth with both paws. when they were gone he looked through the basket for more.
the bread didn’t taste nearly so good after the pies, but buster was still very hungry, and, not finding any more dessert, he began slowly munching the bread. if there had been soup,[97] i suppose, he would have ended his meal with that.
after eating a dozen rolls, and one loaf of bread, he felt better. a noise up the street, accompanied by loud shouting, suddenly made him stop and listen. perhaps the man who owned the basket was returning with help.
buster decided that he wouldn’t wait until the men appeared, and taking a loaf of bread in each of his front paws he climbed over the fence and disappeared in the woods. long before the men reached the spot he had made his way into the heart of a big swamp where he sat down and finished his meal.
he felt so much better by that time that he took a long drink from the brook, and then resumed his journey. he came out of the swamp on the opposite side, and seeing a hill climbed to the top. he hoped to get a view of the railroad from there.
but when he reached it he saw no signs of it. there was a small cluster of houses on his right, a swamp and woods behind him, and open country on his left, with here and there a farm house. buster decided to keep away from the village.
the farm houses attracted him, for he could hear the crowing of a rooster off in that direction and the cackling of geese. there was the[98] moo of a cow and the neighing of a horse from one barn-yard, and the barking of a dog from another.
“i won’t bother the dog,” buster said, keeping away from that farm-yard. “they’re harmless, but very annoying.”
he waddled across a field and climbed a fence until he stood in the barn-yard of the nearest farm. after reaching the barn he poked his head in the open doorway. a boy was in there milking a cow. buster watched the streams of milk, and a sudden desire to taste milk again made him forget all caution. he stepped across the threshold, a pleasant grin on his face, and a rollicking smile in his eyes.
but the boy didn’t see anything friendly in either the grin or the twinkling eyes. when he glanced up and caught sight of buster, he sat on his milk stool as if paralyzed, and then recovering himself he let out a shrill cry and darted for the opposite door. he disappeared like a flash, leaving the milk pail behind him.
“how foolish of him!” said buster. “i wouldn’t hurt him!”
he picked up the milk pail and held it to his lips. there was a gurgle, gurgle as the milk ran down his throat, and it never stopped[99] until three whole quarts were emptied in his stomach.
“that makes me feel better,” he said, rubbing his fat stomach. “i’m so full now i can hardly walk. i’m sleepy, too.”
the hay-mow overhead attracted him. how pleasant it would be to rest and sleep there! he was going to climb up the ladder for this purpose when a great noise outside alarmed him. he peeked out, and saw a big crowd of men and boys armed with sticks, axes, pitchforks and shot-guns, running toward the barn.
buster decided to leave, for he had no desire to meet the crowd. while his enemies came in the front door, buster ran out of the back one, crossed an orchard, and reached a field beyond before he was discovered. he had a long start of them, but when they caught sight of him again they began to blaze away with their shot-guns.
buster was an excellent runner, and he made good time. ahead of him was a bigger house, with a wide lawn in front, and a garden in back. buster wasn’t going to enter this place, but another crowd of men appeared in front of him. if he kept on he would run right into their arms.
[100]buster darted to the right, crossed the lawn and reached the back of the house. there was no one around, and buster hunted for a hiding place. there was an open window over his head on the second story of the house, and a low shed leading up to it.
buster suddenly decided that was his best hiding place, and up the shed he climbed, scrambling to the roof and crawling across this to the open window. he looked inside, and seeing no one he entered.
he was breathing hard, for after eating so much, his exertions told on him. this noise must have awakened the little sleeper on the bed, for suddenly she rose up and startled buster so that he nearly fell down in a faint. he supposed the room was empty, and here was a young person staring at him. he stared back, grinning foolishly. he felt very much like a boy who had been caught stealing.
then to his surprise the girl clapped her hands, and said: “oh, i believe you’re buster! yes, i know you are! and i’m so glad!”
until then buster hadn’t recognized the little person. now he remembered her. it was the little girl who had offered him a stick of candy that day he danced for pennies on the street.
but what pleased buster more than anything else was her joy. she wasn’t a bit afraid of him! she wasn’t going to run away and scream for help. she wouldn’t hand him over to the men pursuing him with shot-guns. what a relief to him this was! she was surely his friend, and would protect him just as chiquita had done so many times. he grinned with pleasure, and waddled toward the bed.
how the little girl outwitted the men, and saved buster from them, will be told in the next story.
