They shouted as loudly as they could,—“Hello! Hello! Hello-o-o!” again and again; but nobody answered. There was not a sound in the forest; only cold, damp, gray fog came sifting silently everywhere.
“I wish we hadn’t come,” said Rose. “Shall we get home before night? I shouldn’t like to sleep in the forest. There might be snakes.”
Suddenly they ran into something like a wooden fence. “Hurrah!” cried Kenneth. “Look, Rose, here is the wigwam now. I told you we were near it all the time.”
Kenneth was right. There they stood in the very door of the wigwam, which had been hidden by the fog.
They gave a shout of joy and went inside. Yes, there it stood, just as they had left it a year ago. There was the piny roof, the pile of brush for a sofa; the little heap of stones which had been their play stove; the cupboard made of a hollow log.
“Somebody has been in our house,” said Kenneth, like the Great Big Bear in the story. “Here are some pieces of broken crockery.”
“Somebody has been sitting on our sofa,” cried Rose, like the Middle-sized Bear, “and she has left her shawl. See!”—she held up a plaid shawl. “It is nice and warm. I am going to put it on.”
“It is an Indian blanket,” said Kenneth. “And look! Somebody has been into our cupboard and has left something to eat!” he cried, like the Little Wee Bear. He held up a pail full of blueberries, big and ripe and luscious. “Rose, it must be the Indians!”
Both the children glanced at the door and shivered. Never had the Indians seemed so near. It was very creepy here alone in the forest. The fog might be hiding all sorts of dangers which they could not see.
But soon Rose took courage. “I don’t believe it was Indians,” she said. “Indians don’t leave things all ready for lost children. It must be the fairies. I knew there were fairies in this forest. I have told you so, Kenneth, ever so many times. I am hungry and I am going to eat the berries. If the fairies left them it will be perfectly safe.”