When they came to a big tree lying with its roots in the air, but with its needles still green, they scrambled over it and followed a winding path down into a narrow valley just full of wild raspberry- and gooseberry- and currant-bushes, and they picked and ate and picked and ate till they could eat no more. Then they made baskets of big leaves and twigs, and filled them with berries for supper, and climbed back over the big tree and trudged along up the path. Soon afterwards they came upon the squinting red wolf, straddling right across the track. "Here we are, you sweet little redskins," said she, with a grin two feet long. "The otters have asked me to show you the way to their cave." The little redskins turned almost white with fear, but they shut their mouths tightly and pushed right on, and the wicked red wolf had to jump out of the way in a hurry, for she did not dare to touch children who remembered and obeyed. Presently the dawdler came up, very hungry and tired--for the brown bear had been much too fast asleep to tell him about Fruity Hollow--and burst out at once, without thinking, "Please can you tell me the way to the otters' cave?" Then the red wolf leapt upon him, and knocked him down, and picked him up by the back of his clothes and carried him off at a trot through the scratching brambles. Just where the pinewoods end and the poplars begin again, the eight little Indians came upon the old grey wolf, curled up with her nose on her tail; and she put up her head for the children to scratch her neck. "Across the meadow and round the slough," she said when she had been scratched enough; "and down the stony creek." So when they got to the edge of the wood they struck right across the meadow, wading knee-deep in the long rich grass; and then they found a path leading through another patch of poplar wood to a wide green slough--or "sloo," as they call it in Canada--half-lake and half-swamp; and they trod lightly round the narrow edge till they found the place where the water oozed out into the creek. Down the creek they went, with the stream purring beside their feet like a kitten in the sun, and the mosquitoes humming over their heads, and the silly loose-leaved poplars rustling all around them, wind or no wind. "Listen!" said the biggest little Indian. And through all the purring and humming and rustling came the long low swishing sound of a big river. Then the eight little pairs of feet climbed out of the creek-bed, and crossed a corner of land till they stood almost on the edge of the river's earthen-cut bank. There was a bustling and a scurrying under foot, and then a row of furry brown little heads popped up from the edge of the bank. "Come in!" barked all the otters in chorus; and, scrambling down the bank, the children followed the otters into their cave. There was plenty of room, though the door was rather small, and a big bed of prairie hay was spread on the floor.