That week the Good Wolf was away on very important business, and if Barty had not had his wonderful book to read he might have felt lonely. The Good Wolf had taught him a special little tune to play on his whistle when he wanted to call him without calling all the other animals.
He was so delighted with Robinson Crusoe that he could not remember the time
The day Barty finished reading his book he tucked it under his arm and ran into the wood to his secret place and played his tune, and in less than two minutes he turned round and saw the Good Wolf trotting towards him out of the green tunnel.
Barty ran and hugged him, and while he was hugging him the book under his arm fell down to the grass. "What is that?" asked the Good Wolf, and he went to it and sniffed it over carefully.
"It is a book I have been reading," answered Barty. "It is about a man whose name was Robinson Crusoe. He was shipwrecked on a desert island."
"What is a desert island?" inquired the Good Wolf.
"It is a perfectly beautiful place with a sea all around it. Oh! I wonder if there are any desert islands around here!"