Barty Crusoe and His Man Saturday. Burnett Frances HodgsonЧитать онлайн книгу.

      "I do think they are," laughed Barty. "They keep turning their heads to look down on us." Then he jumped up and stood on his feet and shouted out to them as he had shouted before. "Hello!" he said. "I don't know whether you are the ones who played in the band at the Snow Feast, but will you be friends? Let us be friends."

      They all chattered so fast at this that it seemed as if they had gone crazy.

      "You can't understand what they say," said Barty, "but I believe they mean that they will."

      "Ah, they'll be friends," the Good Wolf answered. "You see, there is something about you that makes friends."

      "Is there?" cried Barty, quite delighted. "I am glad. I wonder what it is that does it?"

      "Well, you're a jolly little chap," said the Good Wolf. "You've got such stout little legs, and you always seem to be enjoying yourself."

      "I am always enjoying myself," Barty answered. "I'm enjoying myself now 'normously. What shall we do next?"

      The Good Wolf scratched behind his right ear, and Barty saw it was that thoughtful sort of scratch of his – the one he scratched when he was turning things over in his mind.

      "Well," he said, after being quiet for a few moments, "Robinson Crusoe looked for a good many things that first day, didn't he?"

      "Yes, he did," murmured Barty.

      "Now what do you think we had better look for first?" the Good Wolf asked him.

      "What do you think?" said Barty.

      "I want you to tell me," replied the Good Wolf. "It's your desert island, you know, and you ought to take some of the responsibility."