"Oh, good morning!" cried Mrs. Jason as she answered the bell. "Our scratched boy is much better this morning. He is not as badly hurt as we feared. Come in."
Mr. Brown and the children entered, and of course the dogs followed.
"Go back, Dix and Splash," ordered Mr. Brown. Splash turned and went out on the stoop, but Dix kept on. The dog was acting in a strange manner. The door to a downstairs bedroom, where the wounded boy was lying, was open. Dix ran in and the next moment he began to bark wildly, getting on the bed with his forefeet.
"Down, Dix! Down!" cried Mr. Brown. "What do you mean, sir?"
But Dix kept on barking and whining. He tried to lick the hands of the scratched boy.
"Oh, drive him away!" cried Mrs. Jason. "He'll hurt the boy."
But the boy, who seemed much better indeed, rose up in bed and cried:
"Don't send him away! That's Dix, my dog! Oh, Dix, you found me, didn't you?"