"Maybe," agreed Rod. "And look at these two funny marks in the soft ground, as if somebody had dragged a sled along."
"Nobody would drag a sled now," objected Nat. "There's no snow on the ground, but maybe it will snow soon, for it's getting colder."
"Those are funny marks," went on Rod. "I wonder what made them?"
But Nat could not tell, though, soon after that, he remembered and then something very strange happened.
Thump sniffed about in the weeds, he sniffed at the queer marks in the soft ground. Then the boys' mothers called them to lunch.
"I could tell what those marks are if I wanted to," laughed Thump to himself as he followed his little master into the yard. For the dog could understand boy and girl talk, though he could not speak that language. Thump talked by barks, whines and by wags of his tail.
True it was that Thump could have told about the queer marks had he wished, for they were made by the runaway rocking chair. After Racky had told the dog he was going away, and after Thump said he, too, would go, all of a sudden Thump remembered something, and turned back.
"I can't go with you, Racky," barked the dog, as the old, brown chair started to sway away.
"Why not?" asked Racky. "I thought you said Rodney didn't treat you kindly—that he wouldn't let you come with him to-day—and that you would be glad to run away again, as you did with my friend the gas stove."
"Yes, I said that," softly barked Thump, "but I just happened to remember that Rod and Nat are going fishing to-morrow, or maybe this afternoon, and they are going to take me with them. I love to go fishing with the boys, so I guess I won't run away this time."