“Oh, dear me! It’s a bear!” cried Toto.
“No, I am not a bear,” answered the other animal. “Don’t be afraid of me, little muskrat boy. I won’t hurt you.”
“I’m not a muskrat! I’m a beaver!” said Toto. “But who are you?”
“I am Don,” was the answer. “And I am a dog. Once I was a runaway dog, but I am not a runaway any longer. But what are you doing here, beaver boy?”
“Helping my father cut down a tree for the dam,” Toto answered. “What are you doing, Don?”
“I am looking for a camp of tramps,” was the answer, the dog and beaver speaking animal talk, of course. “A dog friend of mine said there was a camp of tramps in these woods, and I want to see if I can find them,” went on Don.
“What are tramps?” asked Toto.
“Ragged men with tin cans that they cook soup in,” answered Don. “Have you seen any around here?”
“No, but Cuppy, the oldest beaver here, saw some ragged men over in the woods,” began Toto. “Maybe they are—”