To hang your head or drop your tail.

_Bowser the Hound._


Bowser was lost, utterly lost. He hadn't the least idea in which
direction Farmer Brown's house was. In fact he hadn't the least idea
which way to turn to find any house. It was the most lonely kind of a
lonely place to which Old Man Coyote had led him and there played the
trick on him which had caused him to tumble into the strange river.

But Bowser couldn't stand still for long. Already jolly, round, red Mr.
Sun was going to bed behind the Purple Hills, and Bowser knew that cold
as had been the day, the night would be still colder. He must keep
moving until he found a shelter. If he didn't he would freeze. So
whimpering and whining, Bowser limped along.

Bowser was not afraid to be out at night as some folks are. Goodness,
no! In fact, on many a moonlight night Bowser had hunted Reddy Fox or
Granny Fox all night long. Never once had he felt lonesome then. But now
it was very, very different. You see, on those nights when he had hunted
he always had known where he was. He had known that at any time he
could go straight home if he wanted to. That made all the difference in
the world.

It would have been bad enough, being lost this way, had he been feeling
at his best. Being lost always makes one feel terribly lonesome.
Lonesomeness is one of the worst parts of the feeling of being lost. But
added to this was the fact that Bowser was really not in fit condition
to be out at all. He was wet, tired, lame and hungry. Do you wonder that