"I like Luke," said Bets. "I think he's very, very nice. I do wish he hadn't got into trouble through letting us come over the wall and see the cats."
A distant whining came on the air again. Bets looked puzzled. She looked all round.
"Where's Buster?" she asked. She had not heard him being dragged away and locked up, though she had heard the noise of the commotion. The others told her. The little girl was indignant and upset.
"Oh, we must rescue him; we must, we must!" she cried. "Fatty, do, do go over the wall and get Buster!"
But Fatty didn't feel at all inclined to run the risk of meeting the surly Mr. Tupping again. Also he knew that the gardener had the key of Buster's shed in his pocket.
"If Lady Candling wasn't away I'd get my mother to ring her up and ask her to tell that fellow Tupping to set him free," said Fatty. He rolled up his sleeve again and looked at the big bruise on his arm, now turning red-purple. "If I showed my mother that, I bet she'd ring up a dozen Lady Candlings."
"It's going to be quite a good bruise," said Bets, knowing how proud Fatty always was of his bruises. "Oh dear, there's poor darling Buster howling again! Let's go to the wall and peep over. We might see Luke and get him to peep in at the shed window and say a kind word to Buster."
So they tiptoed cautiously to the wall and Larry carefully looked over. No one was about. Then there came the sound of someone whistling. It was Luke. Larry whistled too. The distant whistling stopped, then began again. It stopped, and Larry whistled the same tune.
Presently there came the sound of someone coming through the bushes and Luke's face appeared, full and red, like a round moon. "What's up?" he whispered. "I daren't stop. Mr. Tupping's still about."
"It's Buster," whispered Larry. "Can you peep in at the shed window and just say, 'Poor fellow,' or something like that to him?"