encountered some queer adventures since she came to live at the farm;
but this was the queerest of them all. To get lost in fifteen minutes,
so near to her home and in the unromantic State of Kansas, was an
experience that fairly bewildered her.

"Will your folks worry?" asked the shaggy man, his eyes twinkling in
a pleasant way.

"I s'pose so," answered Dorothy with a sigh. "Uncle Henry says
there's ALWAYS something happening to me; but I've always come
home safe at the last. So perhaps he'll take comfort and think I'll
come home safe this time."

"I'm sure you will," said the shaggy man, smilingly nodding at her.
"Good little girls never come to any harm, you know. For my part, I'm
good, too; so nothing ever hurts me."

Dorothy looked at him curiously. His clothes were shaggy, his boots
were shaggy and full of holes, and his hair and whiskers were shaggy.
But his smile was sweet and his eyes were kind.

"Why didn't you want to go to Butterfield?" she asked.

"Because a man lives there who owes me fifteen cents, and if I went to
Butterfield and he saw me he'd want to pay me the money. I don't want
money, my dear."

"Why not?" she inquired.

"Money," declared the shaggy man, "makes people proud and haughty. I