The storm chapter 4

Barbara grew bigger in time and it was not long before she had grown as tall as the other two, Emily and Steven. She was beautiful, I mean lots of people use that word all the time now, and for lots of different reasons, but she was alright. I mean to say nothing was wrong with her, ever. Everything was always just fine, which suited her parents.
One day she was talking to the birds and making up songs and naming the clouds and doing the washing up when a little light went off on the other side of the lake, which was a short way out in front of the house, about a hundred and fifteen yards from the house. It was more like a large fire-cracker that went off. It could have been a shooting star or maybe or fire cracker, anyway it went off and it made Barbara look up and see just what it was.
She decided to take a closer look, so she quickly wrapped up all the washing she had done and took it into the house and wrapped up the washing she had not done and left it out the front of the house, took off her apron and hung it on the hook by the door and put on her her coat. Now, that was a coat that her foster father made, but she called him pa, and it had special shiny stones sewn into it and feathers hanging off the back and it smelled of roses. It was a pearlish white. All of the animals in the forest knew it was Barbara, which is ironic, because Barbara means little stranger. Is that not something. So she set off for the lake and beyond. Woof, just like that.
Across the field in front of the house she marched, her bare feet squelching in the soft puddly grass, her little industious hands curled up into determined fists of curiosity. These mysterious lights had another thing coming if they thought they could just land on the other side of the lake and not be at once interesting. This was a thing, at least. There was a thin, narrow, winding and treacherously muddy path running down the side of the lake, for Barbara though it might have been the widest, flattest driest and easiest of all paths to take. For she was sensible of mind and nimble of heel and toe. There was no place that Barbara could or would not go. For she was Queen of the jungle and it rose behind her just as it sunk before her, in a nice way, that is. Paths were made for her where, before, there were none. Branches picked her up at one side of the stream and put her down at the other. If she fell, fallen leaves made haste to break her fall. If she was not infallable she most certainly was loved by all.
She had arrived at the other side of the lake. Peace prevailed. Peace in the vally as they say. Barbara stood at the edge of the lake and looked down. It was the edges of the forest she was gazing upon, waiting for some flicker or movement. There it was she certainly heard something, it was a snapping twig, breaking wood, twisting branch sort of woody, breaking sound. What could it have been. And all of a sudden there it was. A beast. A big white beast that stood on four legs, it had a pretty sort of a tail and a very long face. But it did not look sad so much as compassionate. When it saw Barbara it made a quiet noise with its lips. Barbara at once went to the beast for she knew no fear, the queer thing. As she came near to the big white animal it turned and pointed its long face at a man. Well, men just don't happen. It was quite a surprise to Barbara.
The man was sitting on a fallen tree looking down with his hands covering his face. He was a sad man. The horse, who stood next to Barbara whinnied. The man looked up and saw Barbara. The poor man looked absolutely dreadful.
"Hello" said the beautiful lady.
He was in a state of shock. He looked all around him and uttered in disbelief, "I have been saved." then he looked at Barbara and declared in shock, amazement and awe, "You have saved me."