That night, for some reason or other, Alice could not sleep. She had played in the evening with her brother, after they had put Winkie through some of her tricks. Then the wily woodchuck had curled up in her nest of hay in the smaller box, and Alice and Larry had studied their lessons and gone to bed.

But Alice could not sleep. She tossed restlessly from one side of the bed to the other, and, all the while, she could not help thinking of Winkie.

“I hope Buster doesn’t come over in the night and break into her pen,” thought Alice. “And I hope Uncle Elias does nothing to her! Poor Winkie! I would rather turn her back into the woods than have anything happen to her!”

Alice tried to keep Winkie out of her mind, but, try as she did, the little girl kept thinking of the pet ground-hog.

“If anything should happen to Winkie,” said Alice over and over again to herself, “I—I’d cry—that’s what I’d do!”

And, almost before she knew it, some tears came out of the blue eyes of Alice and wet the pillow on which her head rested.

“Oh dear! Oh dear!” thought Winkie’s little mistress. “What am I going to do? I feel so bad about Winkie! I—I’d almost rather have her get out than to have Uncle Elias buy her, even for ten dollars, and sic Buster after her.

“And maybe Buster will come in the night,” thought Alice again, her ideas chasing one another around in her poor little tired head as if playing tag. “Or maybe Uncle Elias might come over and—and do something to Winkie!”

This was too much for Alice to bear. She sat up in bed, and a new idea came to her. Carefully she listened. There was not a sound in the house, for all the family had gone to bed rather early. And then, as she listened, Alice thought she heard, faint and far off, the barking of Buster.

It may have been some dog barking on a distant farm, or it may have been Buster. Alice was sure it was. And then, in her fancy, she heard Winkie’s whistle.

“And she’s chattering her teeth, too!” said Alice half aloud.

She really thought she heard this, and perhaps she did.

“I know what I’m going to do!” said Alice at last. “I’m going down the back stairs, out into the yard, and I’m going to let Winkie run out! I shan’t have Buster chase her or Uncle Elias do anything to her. I’m going to let Winkie go back to the woods.”

Alice swung her bare feet over the edge of her bed. She listened again, but there was not a sound in the house. Even the distant barking of the dog had stopped.

“But maybe he stopped because he’s running over here to get Winkie!” thought Alice. “I must hurry down!”

The early part of the evening had been dark, but now the moon had risen, and, shining in the windows, gave light enough for the little girl to see her way. Softly in her bare feet, clad only in her night dress, she pattered down the back stairs.

It was an easy matter to open the back door and go down the rear steps. Her bare feet made scarcely any sound, and the boards of the walk were warm and dry from the day’s sun.

“Ouch!” Alice could not help exclaiming, as she stepped off the boards into the grass. It was cool and damp to her bare feet, but she minded it but for a moment. Then, stopping a second or two to get used to the tickling feeling of the grass, she went on.

Winkie’s pen was plainly seen in the moonlight. Alice walked over toward it, and if any one had been looking then they might have thought the little girl, in her night dress, was some good fairy floating on a moonbeam to help Winkie.

And that, really, is what Alice was. She stooped down and began to fumble with the catch of the door in the side of the pen. The children had cut a little door hole and had hung a board on for a door, swinging it on leather hinges. They had done this so Winkie could easily come out to do her tricks.

As soon as Alice touched the pen Winkie was awake, and, with a little low whistle of greeting, the wily woodchuck came out of her small sleeping box to see what was going on.

“Oh, Winkie!” half sobbed Alice, putting in her hand and patting her pet, “I’m so afraid something will happen to you that I’m going to open your door and let you go. I hope you will be happy. I’d never be happy if Buster caught you or if Uncle Elias did anything to you. So I’m going to let you go, Winkie.”

Of course Winkie did not understand this talk, but the woodchuck knew when any one was kind to her, and Alice was certainly kind. Alice gave Winkie a final pat, stroked her fur, and then, leaving the door open, Alice ran back into the house, softly pattering in her bare feet over the grass and boards.

“Good-bye, Winkie, good-bye!” whispered the little girl, as she closed the back door, went upstairs, and jumped into bed, nobody having heard her.

Then, almost as soon as her head touched the pillow, Alice fell asleep. Her mind was now at rest about Winkie.

But now let us see what happened to the wily woodchuck. It did not take Winkie long to notice the open door. She knew in what part of her pen it was, for she often went in and out when doing her tricks. And now, in the moonlight, the open door plainly showed.

“I guess they want me to go out,” thought Winkie. “Some more of that funny business, I suppose, rolling over and sitting up. Well, I don’t mind, for they give me good things to eat.”

But when Winkie reached the outside of her pen neither Larry nor Alice was in sight, for Alice had gone back to bed and Larry had not gotten up.

“Why—why, it looks as if I could run away!” was the sudden thought that came into the woodchuck’s mind. “Yes, I can run away. I can go back to the woods and maybe find my family! Oh, how lovely that will be!”

So away ran Winkie in the moonlight. She was only partly tame, and even animals that have been in captivity a long time, and have come to love their masters very much, will run away and turn wild again if they get the chance.

Winkie’s chance had come.

Perhaps for an instant she felt sad at leaving the pen that had come to be her home, and she may have felt sorry at going away from Larry and Alice, who had fed her and been good to her. But this thought lasted only a moment, and then Winkie scudded away.

What new adventures would she have?