There was a box, with the side cut down, and in this was a bed of perfectly fresh straw. Then, beside the bed, was a white dish of milk, and some crackers; in fact the dog had quite a little home of his own in Jake’s stable.
“He’s in hiding, I suppose,” said Jacob, searching about under the straw. “But he’s a rascal—I ought to call him Rascal, instead of Ravelings, I guess.”
He whistled, pulled all the straw out, looked in every corner, but no little white dog appeared. A sudden fear overcame Dorothy. What if the girls had taken the dog?
“Do you ever let anyone take him out?” she asked timidly.
“Never, but once I let that Tavia girl. Of course, I did sort of half give him to her, but I claim him now, as I’ve brought him up, and no little time I had curing the lame leg that some car went over, too.”
“He does not seem to be here,” Dorothy said finally. “It might be that Tavia and Edna took him out just for fun. I am sure if they did, however, they will bring him back all right.”
Jacob shook his head, and refused to talk. His pet, his chum, really, was gone. “Could he have been stolen?” he was thinking.
“The grain man was in here to-day,” he said finally, “but I’ve known him for years.”
“I’ll just run along, and see if I can find the girls,” Dorothy offered. “If I find Ravelings I’ll let you know at once, Jacob.”
The hostler shook his head. Evidently he feared he had lost his pet.