"It's going to be all hours before you get home to your own place, Ross," said Anton, "it would be a shame if your fruit ran a risk by your being late. Your dad hasn't got a 'phone."
"That's easily fixed," said Ross.
He went to the door and whistled. Rex came bounding up. Ross went to the table and scribbled on a piece of paper:
"Frost to-night! Light the pots!"
This he fastened securely to the Airedale's collar.
"Home! Rex!" he said.
The terrier looked up in his master's face to make sure that it was an order, and not a game, and evidently being satisfied, started down the road at a long sweeping trot. About a hundred yards away he stopped and turned round to look. Ross was expecting this, so raised his arm and pointed. Quite satisfied, Rex swung round to the road again and galloped out of sight.
The boys separated at once, Bob to his wireless outfit, Fred to his 'phone. Anton, however, did not get in the buggy, as arranged. Instead, his father, knowing that the lad was frail, packed him off to bed and drove in the buggy himself, warning all his neighbors. Ross, on his little pony, riding like another Paul Revere, covered many miles. It was well on towards midnight when he reached Jed Tighe's house. The dogs broke out into a furious barking, and, wakened by their tumult, the old farmer with his thin scraggly beard, came to the door.
"What do you want, coming to my house at this hour of the night?" he began, not recognizing his visitor.
"It's me, Ross Planford," the boy answered. "I came to tell you that it's going to freeze tonight."