"I wonder where he could have come from?" said Elena.
Bill passed by the Bluff on his way to the barn to feed Cheokee, and he said he thought the puppy belonged to Hamilton. A light dawned in Zan's eyes at that.
"Miss Miller, I bet anything, the puppy followed us when we drove past the place. We wouldn't have noticed him, you know, and he, most likely, kept far enough behind so that we didn't see him when we got out. Collie dogs have a wonderful scent, and he could find his way after us even if we were out of sight."
"That seems plausible. Then he must go back home. We will walk over in the morning, and have Bill telephone from the house that the dog is safe."
Bill consented to do this, and the girls hurried supper and did the dishes, so that they could enjoy a romp with the dog.
"I wish to goodness we could keep him!" sighed Zan, watching the pup drag Elena's shoe about.
"We could call him Wickee, couldn't we?" suggested Jane.
"Yes, if we owned him. But pedigreed pups like this one cost too much for our Band to buy, and Hamilton raises all his dogs for money, so it's good-night to that dream!" said Zan.
"Sorry, Zan, to heap trouble on your head; regret for the impossibility of owning the pup and accumulating marks against your record for slang!" hinted the Guide.
"Oh, well, I don't just care a fig! there now! If I only had a dog like this Wickee, I wouldn't say another slang-word in my whole life, really! But what's the use of caring when you haven't got a pet as cute as this one!" Zan grumbled and pouted until she was on the verge of tears. Miss Miller had a hard time to keep a straight face.