"Is This the Brother You're Looking For?"
Mr. Crossleigh. "If you say that you want to——"
Here he came to a pause. The new idea was so wholly strange that he couldn't grasp it all at once.
Here Hoof Sadby, straining his ears from the distance, judged that it was high time for him to use his slice of onion. Then his doleful voice was heard as he came wailing along.
"Why, who's that out there?" cried Mrs. Crossleigh.
"Say, have you got my baby brother!" demanded Hoof, halting at the gateway, then running forward for a minute. "Some fellers——
"Is this the brother you're looking for?" asked Mr. Crossleigh, stepping toward Hoof, basket in hand.
"Yes!" snapped Hoof, giving a pretended gulp of joy. But, truth to tell, he felt so ashamed of himself that he was a poor actor at this moment. Had the Crossleighs been more suspicious they would have detected something sham in Hoof's beginning grief and his swift change to joy.
"Oh, thank you, sir," awkwardly sobbed Hoof, taking the basket. "I know the fellows that did this to me. They think this is a good Hallowe'en joke."
"I'm glad, boy, that you didn't have a longer hunt," remarked Mr. Crossleigh. "Good night!"