Bert Wilson at the Wheel

by J. W. Duffield

Just then Don came trotting up to Tom, calling attention to the note tied to his collar by a series of short, imperative barks. Tom patted his head lovingly and called him a “good fellow” at which Don wig-wagged vigorously. The boys all crowded around, eager to see what was in the note.

“It’s from Bert,” Tom announced, “and he says that Mr. Hollis wants us to come home by the main road because of the dangerous holes and pitfalls. Say, fellows,” as the truth dawned upon him, “do you think that Arthur can be hurt so that he can’t get to us?”

“Nobody knows. But I know one thing,” said Shorty stoutly, “and that is, that I won’t leave these hills to-night until we have found him.”

“Good for you, Shorty,” said Frank. “I know we all feel the same way so we had better get down to business in a hurry.”

All the time the boys had been speaking Don had stood with his head cocked knowingly on one side, watching their every action. When they started to go he looked up into Tom’s face, mutely asking to be allowed to go too. And Tom answered heartily, “You just bet you can come along, Don. We couldn’t do without you.”

Then the boys began to scour the woods in good earnest. For half an hour they worked hard with a dull, aching sensation at their hearts. They looked behind rocks, pulled aside dense underbrush, gazed down deep ravines with the awful fear that they might see their comrade lying at the bottom. They were coming now into the most dangerous part of the country and they were forced to work slowly and with the utmost care.

When they paused, weary and discouraged, to consult on what course was best to follow, Don’s short bark reached their ears and in a minute the dog himself rushed up to them. Then, running back and forth between them and the direction from which he had come, he plainly showed them that he wished them to follow him.

“We’d better go,” Tom said. “He may have found him, or at least some trace of him.”

So, with Don in the lead the boys started once more. As they went they called Arthur’s name, but at first nothing but the echoes answered them. They were so torn by thorns and briers and so wearied by the long search, that nothing but the thought that their poor comrade was in a much worse plight than they, could have kept them to their task. Finally, when they were beginning to think that Don was leading them on a wrong scent, they heard a faint cry. Joyfully, they called out again and again and each time the answer came nearer. When they came upon the runaway at last they were so happy that they didn’t notice his condition at once. When they did realize how badly he was hurt, they forgot how tired they were and set about at once to relieve him.

The poor boy had tried to drag himself along on his hands but had not been able to get very far. The boys bandaged the ankle and then began making a litter. It wasn’t very long before they had Arthur fairly comfortable on the improvised bed. With light hearts the procession started for camp, Don proudly taking the lead. The boys thought it was best not to question Arthur until he had had time to recover from the shock.