“Well,” said Rollo, “and I’ll go too.”
Rollo ran into the parlor to ask his mother if he might go too. He happened to meet his father just coming in at the front door. He accordingly asked him instead.
“Yes,” said his father, “but I’m rather afraid to have the heaps set on fire this afternoon. I am afraid that the fire will run.”
“Run?” repeated Rollo.
“Yes,” replied his father. “Tell Jonas he must be very careful not to let the fire get away from him.”
Rollo ran off in pursuit of Jonas. When he got to the back yard again, he saw Jonas going down the lane almost out of sight.
“Jonas!” said Rollo, calling out as loud as he could, “Jo—nas!”
So saying, he ran off after him. He clambered over the great gate which led into the lane, because he thought that he could climb over it quicker than open it. As soon as he reached the ground on the other side, he ran on, calling out,—
“Jonas! Jonas!”
But Jonas did not seem to hear him. At any rate he did not stop. On the contrary, Rollo was himself stopped, by hearing a voice behind him, as if near the house, calling,—