“You stay in here, Buster, and watch the camp. We’ll be back soon.”
“Better close that window, Jim,” remarked the other. “He might climb up to it and get out.”
“No, it will be too hot in here. Besides, I think we can trust Buster. He won’t try to get out.”
Of course, when they left Buster had no intention of disobeying. He was satisfied to curl up in a corner of the cabin and sleep until they returned; but they were gone for a long time, and late in the afternoon he got very restless.
“I’ll climb up there and look out,” he said to himself, glancing up at the window. “They didn’t tell me not to do that.”
To reach the window he had to climb up on the stout table, and jump from that to the broad window-sill. This feat wasn’t so difficult, for Buster had learned to use his claws with great skill in climbing. The jump to the window-sill was a short one, but he nearly missed it, and had to scramble desperately to prevent a fall.
Once on the window-sill, however, he was well repaid for his trouble. It was a beautiful day outside, and the woods smelt so sweet and attractive that Buster felt a strange longing to get out there and roll around among the leaves. But he wasn’t going to do it. No, he remembered the words of his captors, and while he had made no promise he intended to obey them.
Just the same when Groundy the Woodchuck came along and cast a long shadow in front of the window, Buster leaned so far out that he nearly lost his balance. Groundy glanced up, and at first was startled and ready to run; but when he saw that Buster was no more than a cub, only a little larger than himself, he stopped and spoke to him.
“What are you doing up there?” he asked. “You don’t live in that house, do you? If you don’t look out the owners will come along and catch you.”
“They’ve caught me already,” replied Buster. “That’s why I’m here, Groundy.”