When Buster woke the next morning the sun was just peeping above the trees. He had slept so soundly that he couldn’t recall right away all that had happened the previous night. He opened his eyes, and was surprised when he found that nothing around him was familiar.

He grunted and rose to his feet, blinking at the sun. Then it all returned to him. He remembered the jolt and crash, and the splintering of the roof of his car. He rubbed his head to see if the bruise still hurt him, and winced when it pained him.

“I wonder what happened to the Old Lion,” he said, grinning. “He must have lost all his teeth last night.”

Then he thought of Chiquita. If she was in the wreck, too, she may have lost something more than her teeth. Suppose she had lost her life! This thought grieved Buster.

“I must go back and find out,” he said. “She’ll miss me.”

[96]He waddled away through the bushes until he came to a road that was unfamiliar to him. Which way did he go to reach the railroad? He started up it, but hadn’t gone far before he saw a man approaching, carrying a basket on his arm. Buster was less alarmed than the man apparently, for with a shriek of terror the latter dropped his basket and ran up the road so fast that he was soon out of sight.

“What a foolish thing to do,” laughed Buster. “He must have had an evil conscience or he wouldn’t be frightened like that.”

He waddled up to the basket the man had dropped. One sniff at its contents made his heart jump with joy. It was filled with nice fresh bread, rolls, and two blackberry pies.

Buster didn’t consider it stealing. The man had left the basket, and it belonged to any one who found it. He was very hungry, but bear-like or boy-like (I don’t know which to call it) he began with the blackberry pies instead of the bread. He ate them up rapidly, stuffing them in his mouth with both paws. When they were gone he looked through the basket for more.

The bread didn’t taste nearly so good after the pies, but Buster was still very hungry, and, not finding any more dessert, he began slowly munching the bread. If there had been soup,[97] I suppose, he would have ended his meal with that.

After eating a dozen rolls, and one loaf of bread, he felt better. A noise up the street, accompanied by loud shouting, suddenly made him stop and listen. Perhaps the man who owned the basket was returning with help.

Buster decided that he wouldn’t wait until the men appeared, and taking a loaf of bread in each of his front paws he climbed over the fence and disappeared in the woods. Long before the men reached the spot he had made his way into the heart of a big swamp where he sat down and finished his meal.

He felt so much better by that time that he took a long drink from the brook, and then resumed his journey. He came out of the swamp on the opposite side, and seeing a hill climbed to the top. He hoped to get a view of the railroad from there.

But when he reached it he saw no signs of it. There was a small cluster of houses on his right, a swamp and woods behind him, and open country on his left, with here and there a farm house. Buster decided to keep away from the village.

The farm houses attracted him, for he could hear the crowing of a rooster off in that direction and the cackling of geese. There was the[98] moo of a cow and the neighing of a horse from one barn-yard, and the barking of a dog from another.

“I won’t bother the dog,” Buster said, keeping away from that farm-yard. “They’re harmless, but very annoying.”

He waddled across a field and climbed a fence until............