Joan aside, stooped over the limp figure of
the child, and satisfied himself that he had only fainted. Afterwards he
followed his wife within the caravan, whistling gaily as he went.

Tonio, the negro lad, slid near the group, and with wide, rolling eyes
stared at Darby's motionless form and white face. Bruno had rolled
himself up again comfortably, and was preparing to resume his nap just
where he had left off when his master so rudely aroused him. Joan had
hushed her sobs, although now and again a long, shuddering sigh shook
her little body from head to foot, as with small, smudgy fingers she
gently stroked her brother's cheek. Puck, the monkey, had skipped nimbly
from his perch on the chimney of the caravan and found another more to
his mind on top of Tonio's woolly head, where he sat glowering and
grinning at the group, as if he wanted to ask, only he couldn't in
words, "What's the matter, friends? what's to do?"

Bambo raised the boy from the grass, pillowed the drooping head against
his own broad shoulder, chafed his hands, and put some water to his
lips, which Tonio carried from the spring that bubbled up from out the
mossy ground beneath the fir trees. Soon he recovered, and was able to
sit up in the dwarf's arms and look about him.

Then he remembered everything--where he was, what had happened--and his
face grew white again.

"There, there, sonny, don't fret any more; and don't cry, either of
you," added Bambo, gently laying one long, lean arm around Joan's
shoulder. "If you do you'll make the master angry, and maybe he'll beat
you. You needn't be afraid of Bruno; he's perfectly quiet, except when
he's angered: besides, he's chained."

"Are you quite, quite sure?" asked Joan timidly, glancing nervously in
the direction of the bear.

"Certain, positive!" answered Bambo, smiling into the eager faces raised
so confidingly to his, while an odd, unaccustomed thrill stirred his
pulse and warmed his heart. "If you look you'll see where the chain
that's attached to his collar is fastened to the back of the caravan."

"And will the monkey bite us?" again asked the little one.

"Puck! Puck bite! Why no, bless your heart!" and this time the dwarf
actually laughed. "Puck's about as old as Methuselah, and hasn't got a
tooth in his head! He'll maybe pull your hair if he takes the notion,
and that's the worst Puck 'll do to you.

"Hark! there's master calling," cried Bambo, shuffling to his feet as a
roar resounded