But all at once Philip’s eyes brightened, and he started up as though touched by the wire of an electrical machine.
“Bow-wow-wow; wuph, wuph, wuph!” sounded upon the clear night air.
“Trill—lill—lill—lill—chug—chug—chug—chug—chug!” rang out the sweet notes of a nightingale close by; and then again—
“Bow-wow-wow; wuph, wuph, wuph!” from a dog apparently not far off.
“Come on,” said Philip again, with fresh energy; and casting one glance up at the stars, he pushed forward due east for about a dozen yards with Fred close behind him, and then, forcing his way through a dense hazel stub, he made a step forward, slipped, and went down crash into a deep ditch. But he did not stop in despair this time, although scratched and bruised, for he was out of the wood, and leaping up he stood upon the green turf by the side of the white chalky road.
“Jump, Fred,” he exclaimed, “right over the ditch.”
Fred jumped; but instead of jumping right over he jumped right in, and had to be helped out by Philip; but he shared in his companion’s renewed spirit, and now stood with him in the dusty road looking about.
“Bow-wow-wow; wuph, wuph!” barked the dog again.
“Why, I know where we are,” said Philip; “that’s Mr Benson’s farm, and we are six miles away from home. Never mind; let’s go and tell Mrs Benson, I know she will let us rest a little while.”
Fred was willing enough, and in a minute or two they stood under the porch of the old farm-house, with the dewy roses bending over them as they rapped at the door; while all the time the dog in the yard rattled his chain, and made a terrible disturbance.