“All right, Mother,” answered Martin from his room. “I’m already dressed, I’ll ride the pony right over there.” But Trot was gone, and Martin ran all the way.
“Why, why didn’t you take your automobile and chase after her?” asked the policeman when Martin told him the story. “That’s the best thing to do now. I’d go help you—but I’m needed at the fire. You’d better start right away, you don’t want to lose any time.”
“Oh, yes,” answered Martin, “I know. I know. I’ll go right home and take out the car—but where do you think I had better chase to first?”
“Inquire of the first person you meet,” called out the policeman.
Martin and his mother were soon in the car, but there were few people on the street, as nearly all had gone to the fire.
“Drive on a way,” said the distracted little lady. “Drive anywhere. It’s better than sitting still.”
They hadn’t gone very far before they saw Tiny riding Trot toward them.
“Were you worried?” she called, hailing them from a distance. “I went to the fire-house to warn them of the fire.” She explained it all to them as she came up to the car; how she wakened, and smelled the smoke, and how she didn’t like to waken the little lady, and how she saw Trot fastened in the stable, and how she rode him to the fire-house.
“Dear, dear girlie,” said the little lady. “How brave you are! I’m so glad you didn’t run away again.”
“I never ran away,” answered Tiny. “I never, never ran away!”