"I don't believe I can keep from screaming right out when I see him, but I'll try. Oh, won't it be fun!"—and Betty clapped her hands in joyful anticipation of that exciting moment.
A nice little plan, but Master Thorny forgot the keen senses of the amiable animal snoring peacefully among his boots; and, when they stopped at the Lodge, he had barely time to say in a whisper,
"Ben's coming; cover Sanch and let me get him in quick!" before the dog was out of the phaeton like a bombshell, and the approaching boy went down as if shot, for Sancho gave one leap, and the two rolled over and over, with a shout and a bark of rapturous recognition.
"Who is hurt?" asked Mrs. Moss, running out with floury hands uplifted in alarm.
"Is it a bear?" cried Bab, rushing after her, beater in hand, for a dancing bear was the delight of her heart.
"Sancho's found! Sancho's found!" shouted Thorny, throwing up his hat like a lunatic.
"Found, found, found!" echoed Betty, dancing wildly about as if she too had lost her little wits.
"Where? how? when? who did it?" asked Mrs. Moss, clapping her dusty hands delightedly.
"It isn't; it's an old dirty brown thing," stammered Bab, as the dog came uppermost for a minute, and then rooted into Ben's jacket as if he smelt a woodchuck, and was bound to have him out directly.
Then Thorny, with many interruptions from Betty, poured forth the wondrous tale, to which Bab and his mother listened breathlessly, while the muffins burned as black as a coal, and nobody cared a bit.