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"Oh, what has happened to him?" cried Mab. "Hurry, Daddy, please, and see!" Hal, Mab and their father ran to the gate in the fence that was between their yard and the garden of Mr. Porter. Down where their neighbor's lima beans were planted, and where they were climbing up the poles, they heard the barking and yelping of Roly-Poly sounding loudly. "He's there!" cried Mab. "Here, Roly! Come here!
"I hain't seen the Pennels nor the Kittridges yet," said Aunt Ruey, whose little roly-poly figure was made illustrious in her best cinnamon-colored dyed silk. "There's Moses Pennel a-goin' up that ar ladder. Dear me, what a beautiful feller he is! it's a pity he ain't a-goin' to marry Mara Lincoln, after all."
He had just turned his head leisurely toward the narrow road that came down crosswise over the slope from the Upper Farms, when what in the world was that! Something was coming, a funny little roly-poly something. What a pity, thought Bearhunter, that his sight was growing so poor! At any rate, he had better give the people in the house warning. So he gave several deep, echoing barks.
The General kept his tent, the Major rode to Hazlehurst, and the Colonel, bruised and stiffened by a late fall from his horse, lounged amiably just beyond talking range of the ladies and grumbled jokes to Chaplain Roly-poly, whose giggling enjoyment of them made us hope they were tempered to that clean-shaven lamb. However, there came a change.
"You can look at the edges of the hole and tell how thick the ice is. We will try it and see." With the big blade of his knife, Mr. Blake cut and chipped a hole in the ice, a little way from shore. Hal and Mab stayed on the ground watching their father, but Roly-Poly ran all about, barking as hard as he could. "I guess he is looking for something to bury in a hole," spoke Hal.
"Roly-Poly cried when I shut him up. I want to let him out." Soon the little dog came running out of the barn where Hal had locked him. Over into Mr. Porter's yard ran Roly and Sammie laughed when he saw Hal's pet rolling around in the pile of dried leaves Mr. Porter had raked together. "Roly, you be a good dog!" warned Mab, shaking her finger at him.
"... Whereupon the rain began to pour down in torrents, and there came a sudden, blinding flash of lightning..." And with unusual artistry and rapidity Roly-Poly, with a successive movement of his eyebrows, eyes, nose, the upper and the lower lip, portrayed a lightning zig-zag. "... A jarring thunder clap burst out trrroo-oo.
"How many can play it?" asked Hal. "Oh, as many as care to" answered Daddy Blake. I'm going to play it, and so is your mother, I think; and Uncle Pennywait, and Aunt Lollypop, and no, I guess we can't let Roly-Poly play the garden game, but you two children can." "Oh, it must be a fine game if so many can play," laughed Hal. "Hurry, Daddy, and show us what it is." "Do you play sides?"
He put the bundle down on the table and caught up first Mab and then Hal for a hearty kiss. "Well, how are you all to-day?" he asked. "I just baked a cake," answered Mab. "And the dough went all over Roly-Poly, and I made believe he was a submarine ship in the bath tub," added Hal. "We had lots of fun." "Before that we didn't thought," spoke Mab.
With food and care he grew into a round, roly-poly ball of fur. He played merrily with Brutus and the kittens. And though at first he was a bit rough, they and John taught him better ways, so that he kicked and bit his friends no longer. As the months went by, they watched him change gradually from cub to wolf. They were sorry to see him lose his puppy looks and frisky manners.
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