"At last the bear, what with pawing and rooting, managed to get his breath and open his eyes. He wallowed a bit more, and then sat up, his nose full of dirt, and moss and grass hanging all over his face. He was a sight, I tell you! And how he did dislike himself!
"As he sat there, thinking how he'd ever get away from himself, he caught sight of Stripes, strolling off quietly over the brown hillocks. Sitting back on his haunches, he blinked at the little, leisurely black-and-white figure.
"'And to think I was going to eat that!' he said to himself sadly."
CHAPTER XV
DAGGER BILL AND THE WATER BABIES
"What's that?" demanded the Babe nervously, as a peal of wild, crazy laughter rang out over the surface of the lake.
"Why, don't you know what that is yet?" Said Uncle Andy with a superior air. "That's old Dagger Bill, the big black-and-white loon. Sounds as if he was terribly amused, doesn't he? But he's only calling to his big black-and-white mate, or the two little Dagger Bills they hatched out in the spring."
"What does he do?" asked the Babe.
"I don't know much about that fellow," answered Uncle Andy. "Now you see him, and now you don't. Mostly you don't; and, when you do, as likely as not it's only his snaky black head, with its sharp dagger of a bill, stuck up out of the water to keep track of you. He's most unsociable. If anyone tells you he knows all about a loon, you wink to yourself and pretend you are not listening. But I'll tell you who do know something about old Dagger Bill—the Water Babies.
"Who're the Water Babies?" demanded the Babe.