“Did you hurt yourself, Teddy boy?” asked his father.
“N—no—I—I guess not,” answered Teddy slowly. “I stumbled over that pile of grass Patrick cut to-day. I fell on that—it was nice and soft.”
“Well, it’s a good thing to pick out something soft to fall on when you stumble,” said Mr. Martin. “Now be careful, both of you. Better wait for us. Mother, come and bring the lamp. Maybe Skyrocket is shut up in the goat stable and can’t get out.”
But the little stable, empty since Nicknack had been sold, held no little dog, either. Skyrocket was not there. And now they began a search all around the house, whistling and calling for the pet of the Curlytops.
But Skyrocket did not answer; he did not whine, he did not bark, and there was no joyful thump of his tail.
“Where can he be?” asked Teddy.
“Where can he be?” echoed Janet.
Mr. and Mrs. Martin looked at each other in the light of the lamp. Then Mr. Martin spoke.
“I think Skyrocket will be back by morning,” he said. “Sometimes dogs run away, just for the fun of it, but they usually come back.”
“Skyrocket never ran away very far before,” said Teddy. “And he always came back when I whistled.”