Back he flung into the brush, and when next he appeared a man came with him. Buddie recognized Mr. Goodell, a land-looker who frequently stopped at the log house by the lake.
“Hello; Buddie!” called the land-looker, in his big good-natured voice. “Don’t stand so near the water, little girl, or you’ll tumble in. Good dog!”—patting Colonel, who was now frantic with delight and cleared the stream in two bounds.
Mr. Goodell made the passage more carefully. A slip meant a ducking, if nothing worse.
“So you paddled into the woods and got lost, eh?” remarked the land-looker, unswinging his pack from his back and proceeding to fill his pipe. “Seem’s if I’ve heard your ma say something about that sort o’ thing.”
“But the bears didn’t eat me up,” said Buddie, recalling her mother’s familiar warning.
“Well, I guess there ain’t many bear about here,” said the land-looker with a smile.
“I saw three,” said Buddie, eagerly: “the Great Hooge Bear, the Middle Bear, and the Little Small Wee Bear.”
“So!” said Mr. Goodell, seriously.
“And a Beaver, and a Rabbit, and a Guinea-Pig, and a Loon, and a Fox, and a Goose, and a Donkey—” Buddie went on, rapidly enumerating her acquaintances of the day.
The lighted match fell from the land-looker’s hand.