But a whole week went by, and no Frisk. The ham-bone got quite dry; and Dash was sure poor Frisk must be ill or dead.
At last one day, when Dash had lost all hope, he heard the pit-a-pat of four small feet in the yard. He had just gone in his house to take a short nap; but, I can tell you, he made but one jump out, for there was Frisk, on all fours, to be sure, but with his blue pants on his hind-legs, his red coat on his fore-legs, with the coat-tails, one on each side of his own tail, which was up in the air in an arch of joy, for here he was a real, true run-a-way.
Dash flew to meet him. "Why, Frisk!" he cried; "make haste—fast—come—get right in my house. Don't mind if you tear those old coat-tails with the thorn-bush. There! that's the thing!—here you are, all safe! Now tell me, how did you get off?"
Frisk had run so fast that he could not speak; he could just pant, and lay his head on Dash's, with a look full of love. At last he said: "O Dash! I have run off in the midst of the play—the show-man struck me so hard for what I could not help—for my cap fell off—and I did think I must die with the pain. O Dash! if you knew what I have gone thro', your heart would break, and you would say, I did right to run a-way." The big tears ran down his nose, and his sobs did seem as if they would choke him; and Dash gave such a long howl of woe, that it makes me cry as I write these words, and I am quite sure you will cry as you read them.
Then Dash got out all his best bones to feed poor Frisk, who ate as if he had not seen a bone an inch long in a month.
When he had done, Dash said: "Now, dear Frisk, if you feel like it, tell me all you have gone thro'."
So they sat down, and while the tears ran down Dash's nose, Frisk told the rest of his sad tale.