Twist and turn as he did, he could not get loose. His tail was caught, too, so he could not pound with it and call the other beavers to his aid. Poor Toto did not know what to do.
“This is worse than being in a man-trap,” he said. “No boy will come to take me out for a pet now. Oh, if only Tum Tum were here he could lift this heavy tree off my back!”
But no Tum Tum came. Toto was held down by the tree, but he was in no pain. He couldn’t get loose; that was all. And there he had to stay, alone in the woods, with the wind blowing all about him.
But, after a while, the storm passed. The rain stopped, the sun came out, and the wind died away. Still poor Toto was held fast, and he could not wiggle loose.
As he was held there, thinking of many things, and sadly wondering if he would ever see his home again, he heard a crackling of wood, as if some one were walking among the trees.
“Oh, maybe it is Tum Tum come to save me again!” thought Toto, not knowing that circuses never come to the forest, but show only in towns and cities. “Maybe it is Tum Tum!”
But no jolly elephant came. Instead Toto heard voices talking, but the voices were gentle, and not the rough ones of the tramps.
“Oh, look, Grandma!” cried the little Millie. “There is a tree blown down.”
“Yes, it was a terrible storm,” said the old lady.
“And, oh, Grandma! Look!” cried Millie. “There is a little brown puppy dog caught under this tree!”