Instantly the dog stopped.
“His name’s Nero—not Fido,” whispered Janet.
“Yes, I guess it is,” assented her brother.
The dog had run on farther ahead now, and the children could see, through the trees and bushes, that Nero was leaping about a tall man in a black suit, who was walking with a cane. The man appeared a trifle lame. But he seemed as glad to see the dog as the dog was to meet his master.
“Where have you been, Nero? Running away again?” the Curlytops heard the man ask the dog.
As if in answer, Nero looked back to where he had left Ted and Janet. He barked once or twice and then ran on to the bush behind which stood the boy and his sister. It was as if the dog said:
“Come on out, children, and show yourselves. Show yourselves to my master. Then he’ll know I didn’t run away. He’ll know that I went into the woods to get you to bring you safely out. Come, children, show yourselves!”
This Ted and Janet did, stepping from the shadow of the shrubbery into the sunshine on the curving gravel walk that led up to the big, white house.
“Oh, hello there! Where did you come from?” exclaimed the man, in surprise, as he saw the children. “Nero, where did these two come from?”
Nero barked in answer, as much as to say: