He stopped speaking suddenly, and pointed up the hill. Sue looked in the same direction. They saw coming toward them, not a dog, but an old man, dressed in rather ragged clothes. He looked like what the children called a tramp, though since they had arrived at the camp they had come to know that not all persons who wore ragged clothes were tramps. Some of the farmers and their helpers wore their raggedest garments to work in the dirt of the fields.
This man might be a farmer. He had long white hair that hung down under the brim of his black hat, and though he did not have such a nice face as did the children's father, or their Uncle Tad, still they were not afraid of him.
"Going after milk, little ones?" asked the old man, and his voice was not unpleasant.
"No, sir; we've just been," said Bunny.
"Well, I'm afraid you'll spill your milk if you swing your pail that way," went on the old man, for Bunny was moving the pail to and fro, with wide swings of his arms.
"It would spill, if there was any in the pail," said Sue.
"But there isn't," added Bunny.
"It's spilled already and we don't know where to get any more," explained Sue.
"It wasn't 'zactly spilled," Bunny added, for he and Sue always tried to speak the exact truth. "A dog drank it up."