Bart finally arose, and the dog, too. The animal turned its face east, wagged its tail expectantly, and eagerly studied Bart's face and movements.
As he took a step up the road the animal's tail went down, nerveless, and its eyes regarded him beseechingly.
"Come on, old fellow!" hailed Bart encouragingly, patting the dog. It followed him reluctantly. Then he made a rollic of it, jumping the ditch, racing the animal, stopping abruptly, leaping over it, apparently making Christmas forget everything except that it had a friendly companion.
At length Bart induced the dog to go ahead. It led the way with evident reluctance. It would stop and eye Bart with a decidedly serious eye. He urged it forward, and finally it got down to a slow trot, sniffing the road and looking altogether out of harmony with its forced course.
Christmas was about twenty yards ahead of Bart at the end of a two miles' jaunt, when he shied to the extreme edge of the road and drew to his haunches.
Here wagon tracks led into the timber. The road had been used lately, Bart soon discerned.
"Come on, Christmas!" he hailed, branching off into the new obscure roadway.
The dog circled him, but could not be induced to leave the main road. Bart made a grab for the trailing rope. The animal eluded him, gave him one reproachful look, turned its nose east, and shot off, headed for home like an arrow.
"I've lost my ally," murmured Bart, "but I think I have got my clew. Christmas does not like this road, which looks as if he left his captors somewhere down its length. I'll try to locate them."
Bart followed the tortuous windings of the narrow road, through brush, over hillocks, down into depressions, and finally into the timber.