Nan dearly loved the dogs with which she was well acquainted, but she was in great terror of strange animals, especially if they barked loudly and showed a disposition to bite.
"Bert! Bert! what shall we do?" she gasped as she clung to her twin brother's arm.
Bert hardly knew what to say, for he himself did not like a biting dog. He looked around for a stick or a stone, and espied the doorway to the cow-shed. It was open.
"Let us get into the shed," he said quickly. "Perhaps we can close the door and keep the dog out."
Into the shed sprang Nan and her twin brother after her. The dog was almost upon them when Bert banged the door in his face. At once the animal stopped short and began to bark more furiously than ever.
"Do you—you think he can get in at the window?" faltered Nan. She was so scared she could scarcely speak.
"I don't know, I'm sure. If you'll stand by the door, Nan, I'll try to guard the window."
Nan threw her form against the door and held it as hard as if a giant were outside trying to force it in. Bert felt around the empty shed and picked up the handle of a broken spade. With this in hand he stalked over to the one little window which was opposite the door.
"Are there any cows here?" asked Nan. It was so dark she could see next to nothing.
"No cows here, I guess," answered Bert. "This building is 'most ready to tumble down."