“Oh, look at him!” cried Flossie, as the dog, digging away, made the snow fly in a shower back of him. “He’s like a snowplow on the railroad!”
Once, in a big storm, Flossie and Freddie had seen the railroad snowplow, pushed by two locomotives, cut through a high drift. And the way Rover scattered the snow made the little girl think of the plow.
“Bring it here, Rover!” cried Freddie, for it would be his turn next to throw a cone.
“Bow-wow!” barked the dog, and then, with a final dive into the drift, he got the brown cone in his mouth and came racing back with it. Covered with snow as he was, he crawled under the shelter to be petted and talked kindly to by Freddie and Flossie.
Then, just as he probably did when he came out of the water in the summer time, Rover gave himself a shake, to get rid of the snowflakes.
“Oh! Oh!” laughed Flossie, holding her hands over her face. “Stop it, Rover! You’re getting me all snow!”
But Rover kept it up until he had got off all the snow, and then he raced out again after more cones as the children threw them.
If Bert Bobbsey could have known where his little sister and brother were, with brave old Rover beside them, I am sure he would have wished to join them. For Bert, about this time, was running away from the wildcat that had suddenly burst through the bushes.
“You’re not going to get me!” said Bert to himself, as he clutched his package of lunch and raced on as well as he could.
The pain in his leg bothered him, but he was not going to stop for a thing like that and let a wildcat maul him. On he ran through the snow, taking the easiest path he could find. He looked back over his shoulder once or twice, to find the wildcat bounding lightly along after him.