“You certainly must,” laughed Billy, “unless you can fly across. You haven’t wings yet, have you, Buster?”
“Not yet, Billy.”
Then taking a plunge in the deep, swift stream, Buster began his long swim. The current was so strong that it carried him far down from the point he had in view, and at times it seemed as if he wasn’t making any headway at all. His long tramp in the woods began to tell on him, and he puffed and grunted as never before.
But he was a powerful swimmer, and in time his feet touched sandy bottom on the other side. He waded through the shallow water until he stood on dry land once more.
“My, Buster, you look like a drowned rat!” exclaimed a voice in the bushes. He turned to see Groundy the Woodchuck smiling at him. “When did you arrive?” continued Groundy. “And how big you’ve grown! I hardly knew you at first.”
“How far am I from the North Woods, Browny?” Buster interrupted.
“How far? Why, as far again as half.”
“This is no time for joking, Browny. I want a plain, straightforward answer.”
“Well, then you’ll have it. You’re there now! You’re standing in the North Woods!”
Buster gave a little sigh of relief. So he was back home, in the woods where had been born! How good the trees and bushes looked and smelt! He sniffed the pines and spruces. He looked at the river he had crossed, and for the first time realized this was the stream that passed the door of his old home. By following it up he could come to the cave where his mother had lived, and where Loup the Lynx had found him that day when he tried to kill him.