Bang! she slammed against it, so hard that she was thrown down and lay, for a moment, stunned amid the leaves.
It was a good thing that Don was a kind dog, and not a savage one belonging to Farmer Tottle. And it is also a good thing Don was not a wolf or a fox. For had he been either of these he could easily have caught Winkie in his teeth when she fell back, stunned by her crash into the tree.
But Don did not do this thing. Instead, he went gently up to Winkie as she lay amid the leaves, smelled her fur, and barked in a low tone.
“Oh, please don’t bite me! Please don’t!” begged Winkie.
“Bite you? Nonsense! I never thought of such a thing!” cried Don. “Why did you run away?”
“Because you chased me,” answered Winkie, her heart not beating so fast now, when she found that nothing had yet happened to her. She was so plump and so covered with fur that running into the tree had not done her any more harm than to knock her breath from her for a moment or two.
“How foolish! I didn’t chase you!” declared Don. “I was just running after you to tell you what a book is.”
“What is a book?” asked Winkie, and Don told her as well as he could for a dog who couldn’t himself read.
“A book,” he barked, “is a sort of long story of adventures.”