Ah, me! what perils await those who go on their travels to seek their fortunes! A little brook was now before them; and Alan said, "This river must be crossed, and I hope that none of us will be carried away by the current. What we shall do if an Indian springs from behind the bushes, or a crocodile comes out of the sedge, I don't know. Here is the narrowest part of the river. I will lay my stick across it; and, if we make believe very much, it will do for a bridge."
"But I can't walk along your stick," said Amy. "Never mind that," said Alan: "a bridge is a bridge, whether we walk along it or not." So Alan laid his stick across the narrow part, and then jumped over the brook, followed by Owen and Amy. No Indian sprang from the bush, no crocodile came out of the sedge; and the river was crossed without one of them being drowned.
All at once it came into Alan's head that Uncle Paul had once been attacked by a wolf, and that they ought to have an adventure of the same kind: he therefore asked Owen if he would consent to be eaten up by a wolf. Owen said he did not like it: he thought Alan ought to be eaten, for he was the biggest. Alan said that would never do; for then there would be nobody to care for him and Amy.
But, besides this difficulty, there was another: they had no wolf; and, where to get one, they did not know. At last it was settled. Owen was to be the wolf, and to spring on Amy; but before he had eaten her up, or even so much as snapped off her little finger, Alan was to rush upon him with his stick, and drive him back into the woods.
Amy was now left alone, that Owen might get behind one bush, and Alan behind another. No sooner was this done, than, with her basket on her arm, she went on her journey.
And now Amy was almost come to the bush behind which Owen was crouching. For a moment she made a stop, as though she hardly durst go by; but at last she went on. Suddenly the wolf leaped out, and caught hold of her.
What was poor Amy to do? Well was it for her that Alan happened to come up. Many people are frightened at wolves; but Alan did not seem frightened at all.
It was a hard struggle; for the wolf pulled poor Amy one way, and Alan pulled her the other; but at length Alan won the day. "Shall I kill the wolf, Amy?" cried he, lifting up his stick. "No, no!" cried Amy: "he has not hurt me a bit. He is not a real wolf, but only my brother Owen."