“It doesn’t seem so,” answered Buddie.
“Oh, it must be. Try again.”
So Buddie again wet her forefinger and held it up, and a little puff of wind came along and cooled the farther side of it.
“Oh, yes,” said she; “it’s the side toward you.”
“Then we’re traveling north, just as I thought,” said the Donkey. “You will also observe that the farther we go the flatter the ground becomes. The earth, you know, flattens at the poles—not all at once, but gradually.”
“Isn’t he dreadfully wise!” Buddie whispered to Colonel.
“He’s a wonder,” replied the Yellow Dog, who hadn’t a bit of envy in his make-up, and always gave credit where credit was due.
For some time the little party wound through the wood in silence, the Donkey following his nose, the others following him. Presently the leader called a halt to wait for the guide, who was some distance in the rear.
“Time for a story,” he announced, when the ’Possum at last came lumbering along, puffing at every step.
“What shall it be?” asked the guide, when he could get breath enough to speak.