But Ted’s unlimited confidence in his dog’s power to protect, did not lessen the uncanny feeling produced by the midnight howling, growling bark.
Mrs. Brandon did what she could to assure Nancy and Miss Manners that dogs often bark at almost nothing, but when she heard Nero’s paws scratching against the door that led from the hall into the little group of sleeping rooms, her own courage sagged somewhat.
“Let him in!” ordered Ted. “Here, let me!” he corrected, going to the door and meeting bravely the wild greeting of Nero. “What is it, boy?” he asked. “What’s the matter?”
To which question Nero threw his two great paws against Ted’s chest, barked not fiercely, but in that talking way dogs have, and then turned to race back down the stairs.
“It’s no one he’s after,” explained Ted, “or he wouldn’t leave them to come up and tell me. He wants to show me something—”
“Ted Brandon!” cried Nancy. “Don’t you dare go down—”
“I’ll go along,” volunteered Mrs. Brandon. “As Ted says, the dog would have stood guard if any one were trying to get in.”
There was no use in further arguing, for Ted was already close on Nero’s heels, following him to the store whence he was leading. Mrs. Brandon may have been timid, but small Ted’s confidence in his dog was very fortifying, and she, too, fell in with the small midnight procession.
Nancy did not remain upstairs, neither did Miss Manners, for somehow it always does seem safer to “stick together” in that sort of trouble.
No one spoke as they followed the dog. With great dignity he led them on, until, upon reaching the store, he made a pounce over to the corner near the chimney.