Once little Mary and her lamb really did get lost—and something dreadful almost happened! They had been picking berries in the bushes up Clover hill, and couldn't find the way out. The sun was setting, and Mary thought of snakes and bears! She was tired and hungry, too. She was eating blueberries from her pail, and crying, and the lamb, who would not eat berries and wanted his milk in the old coffepot was crying, too—"Ba-a-a!"—when a big, tall boy with a rifle in his hand broke through the bushes behind them. He sat down on a stump and stared at them, looking so white and scared that Mary felt sorry for him. "Did a bear chase you?" she asked. "Oh no," said he, "It's only I'm so glad you are alive!" He didn't dare tell her he had mistaken her little brown head bobbing among the leaves, for a bird, and raised his gun to shoot it when he saw a little white lamb bobbing beside it and stopped to look closer! So her little lamb had saved Mary's life—but she never knew it. "Now how came you up here?" the boy asked. "Are you lost?" "Oh no," said Mary, winking away the tears, and smiling; "We aren't exactly lost—only we can't just find our home. And we want our supper, too." "You shall have it!" said the boy. "You are little Mary—I know your house—and I'm going to carry you there, quicker than a horse can trot!" So he took Mary in one arm and the lamb in the other, and the gun he left hidden in the forest under a tree. Then he quickly found the road (it was close by, after all,) and in ten minutes they were safe home again; and Mary's mother thanked the big boy and gave them all some supper.
How he won the prize.
