“Oh, where is he?” cried Jane.
“Who?” inquired Donald.
“The Woolly Dog you had riding with you. He’s gone!”
Then, for the first time since the accident, Donald noticed that his birthday toy was missing.
“He was on my sled in front of me,” he said. “He must have fallen off when I went around the curve.”
“Come on, I’ll help you look for him,” offered Jane.
But though she and Donald and the other children searched all around in the snow for the Woolly Dog they could not find him. He had been tossed off the overturned sled and had bounced into the middle of a snow bank some distance away, falling deep down into the soft pile of flakes. The children did not see him at all.
“Burr-r-r-r! But it’s cold!” shivered the Woolly Dog, as he found himself in the midst of the snowdrift. “Oh, what a dreadful adventure this is going to be! It’s worse than falling into the mud puddle and it’s almost as bad as being cut and sewed up again! I wonder what is going to happen to me?”
The Woolly Dog did not know. He could hear Donald, Jane and the other boys and girls talking as they searched for him. The Woolly Dog wished he might call out and tell them where he was so they could lift him from his cold, white bed among the flakes of snow, but this was not allowed. He could not move or speak when human beings were present.
“But it certainly is dreadfully cold here!” whined the Woolly Dog to himself. “Oh, burr-r-r-r! It’s freezing!”