"I guess by the time we get the milk it will be too dark to see to chase
squirrels," said Sue. "It's getting dark now; come on, Bunny."

The two children started down the road toward the camp, and as they did
so they heard a crackling in the bushes on the side of a hill that led
up from the road.

"Oh, here comes that milk dog back again!" cried Sue, and she snuggled
up close against her brother, though the sinking sun was still shining
across the highway.

"I won't let him hurt you," said Bunny. "Wait until I get a stone or a
stick."

"Oh, you mustn't do anything to strange dogs!" cried the little girl.
"If you do they might jump at you and bite you. Just don't notice him or
speak to him, and he'll think we're--we're stylish, and he'll pass right
by."

"Oh well, if you want me to do _that_ way," said Bunny, looking up
toward the place the sound came from, "why I will, only----"

He stopped speaking suddenly, and pointed up the hill. Sue looked in the
same direction. They saw coming toward them, not a dog, but an old man,
dressed in rather ragged clothes. He looked like what the children
called a tramp, though since they had arrived at the camp they had come
to know that not all persons who wore ragged clothes were tramps. Some
of the farmers and their helpers wore their raggedest garments to work
in the dirt of the fields.