“So I didn’t dream it, after all,” she thought. “I’m glad of that; for perhaps I shall see them again. Only, I do wish these creatures wouldn’t go away so suddenly. It makes you feel funny all over. I wonder if Colonel is very far from here. Perhaps he can hear me if I call.” And she began shouting at the top of her voice (and it was a long way to the top of it, I assure you):
“Colonel! Colonel! COLONEL!”
“Never halloo till you’re out of the wood,” piped a small voice.
Buddie looked about her and saw, perched on a balsam limb, a snow-white bird, who, with his head cocked on one side, was regarding her with the most comical expression imaginable.
“Never halloo till you are out of the wood,” he piped again.
“Why not?” asked Buddie.
“Because you’ll start the bark of the dogwood trees, and they’ll make noise enough to wake the dead leaves.”
This seemed a sufficient reason, and Buddie changed the subject.
“I never saw such a very white bird,” she said, gazing admiringly at her new acquaintance. The lake gulls were not nearly so snowy.
“I’m not a whitebird; I’m a blackbird,” replied Snowfeathers.