“Now, Newcombe,” said one of the boys, when they had walked entirely around the ’squire’s yard, and had thoroughly reconnoitered the situation, “how are you going to work it?”
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Johnny, who was always ready for any emergency; “we’ll keep the dogs here, while Newcombe goes and gets the horse.”
“But how are you going to do it?” asked Tom.
“With this!” replied Johnny, showing a stick, which he carried in his hand. “Every time the dogs start to go away, I’ll pound on the fence with this cane. That will make them mad, and they won’t leave here as long as we are in sight.”
“I’d like to see that plan tried before I risk it,” said Tom, doubtfully. “Perhaps it won’t work.”
As he spoke, he walked off toward the barn. The dogs followed him; but when Johnny rattled his stick between the pickets, they bounded back, and the larger of the dogs made a desperate attempt to leap the fence to get at Johnny.
“They’re savage, aint they?” whispered the latter.
“I should say they were!” replied Tom, his courage gradually melting away again. “Boys, my head aches awfully, and my ankle grows worse every minute.”
“Never mind that!” said Johnny. “It’ll soon wear off. My plan works first rate, don’t it, boys? Go on, Newcombe; we’ll agree to keep the dogs here.”
“But, fellows,” said Tom, who did not like to be required to do all the work alone, “one of you ought to go with me and help me pull that wagon out of the yard. It’s too heavy for me!”