This seemed to be what would happen. For the engine and cars had started
ahead of Bunny, and, too, they were not so big as he. It took him some
time to turn over, for there was more of him.

It was not the first time Bunny had rolled downhill. Often he and Sue,
finding a nice smooth, grassy slope in the country, had started at the
top and rolled all the way to the bottom, over and over, getting up
slightly dizzy.

But Bunny had never rolled down such a long, steep and rough hill as
this, and he really did not mean to do it. He had started out to run to
the bottom, or slide along, his feet buried in the soft sand and gravel.
But he had slipped, and the only thing now to do was to roll, just as
the train was doing.

Bunny looked down the slope again. He saw that the train was almost in
the water, and he was wondering how much spoiled it would be, and
whether it could be fixed again, so it could be run, when he suddenly
saw a man step from the fringe of bushes at the edge of the lake and
pick up the engine and cars just as they went into the water, getting
only a little wet in the edge of the lake.

The man was roughly dressed, and for a moment Bunny thought he was the
old hermit who lived in the lonely log cabin, and who had sold Bunny and
Sue some milk the day before, when the dog had taken their pailful.

But another look, as Bunny tried to slow-up his rolling, told him it
was another man. He was just as ragged as the hermit who kept a cow, but
he did not have long hair, nor a long white beard, and his face was very
dark.