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"No!" exclaimed Buster John with a lofty air, but not loudly. "Don't you see he's not a bit like the fairies we read about in books? Why, he was afraid of a wood-sawyer." "That's so," Sweetest Susan rejoined. "He's a witch, dat what he is," said Drusilla. "Shucks!" whispered Buster John. He heard the voice of Mr. Thimblefinger under the wood-pile. "I've found it, I've found it!" he cried.
Suddenly Wilson turned away from her to listen. Then she heard rapid beating of hoofs on the road. "That's Buster Jack," said the cowboy. "Just my luck! There wasn't any one here when I arrived. Reckon I oughtn't have stayed. Columbine, you look pretty much upset." "What do I care how I look!" she exclaimed, with a sharp resentment attending this abrupt and painful break in her agitation.
The other rustler did not speak. He was small, swarthy-faced, with sloe-black eyes and matted hair, evidently a white man with Mexican blood. Keen, strung, furtive, he kept motionless, awaiting events. "Buster Jack, these new pards of yours are low-down rustlers, an' one of them's worse, as I could prove," said Wade, "but compared with you they're all gentlemen." Belllounds leered.
Then, galloping his pony up behind the steer, Buster threw the lariat over the head of the animal, and brought it with a thud to the ground. "Oh, am I safe?" gasped Mr. Bunn as he sank down on some saddles that had been removed from the horses. "You're all right now," Paul assured him. "But it certainly was a lively time while it lasted." "That's so," agreed Russ, who had not deserted his camera.
And although Buster went to the meeting-place each morning, he failed to find his long-eared friend there. Luckily it was a pleasant spot in which to wait. So each day Buster breakfasted upon the flowers. And if it hadn't been for just one thing he wouldn't have cared much whether Jimmy Rabbit ever came back to meet him or not.
Buster knew of an old tune called "The Bumblebee in the Pumpkin," and he cried with some heat that he could think of no reason why there shouldn't be "A Ladybug in a Pumpkin." "I told you my house was big the biggest one on the farm," Mrs. Ladybug reminded him. "Ah!" Chirpy Cricket exclaimed. "Now I know! You're going to live in the haystack.
He blazed an' roared, an' comed over an' bummed my head 'pon the earhole a buster as might 'a' killed some lads. My ivers! I seed stars 'nough to fill a new sky, Joan, an' I went down tail over nose. I doubt theer's nobody in Newlyn what can hit like faither. I was for axin' mother then, but reckoned not for fear as he might be listenin' agin.
And I'll follow it this very night." So he thanked his new-found sister and said good-by, for he wanted to look for some cotton at once. "Goodness me!" the trumpeter exclaimed as soon as Buster had left her. "Here I've wasted a precious quarter of an hour when I should have been working."
Bumper was frightened at first by the sight of the big, shaggy head and body, but when he recalled Rusty's words, and saw that Buster was sleeping, he stopped and laughed. It was a sight to make any one laugh. Buster's big, shaggy body rose and fell with every breath, and each time a loud snore came from his half open mouth. It sounded like a wheezy pair of bellows trying to play a tune.
You see he didn't have the least doubt in the world that Buster Bear meant to eat him, and when Buster invited him to dinner, he was sure that that was just a joke on Buster's part. But there was no way to escape, and after a little Old Mr. Toad thought it best to be polite, because, you know, it always pays to be polite.
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