The little cat scampered away, and soon I heard a few stealthy sounds outside, and then a long indrawn sniff from Oscar, and a stifled “Woof!” He was locating me.
The cat had explained the circumstances to him, as they ran along together. He signalled to me to begin at my end of the tunnel. I started digging like a wild dog, and he began tunnelling to meet me.
His paws are magnificent—so big and strong, and he had the acute hearing of a healthy dog. He could even hear my heart beating as I worked. In a very few minutes, I was down on the earth, crawling on my stomach out through my tunnel into his.
I fell on the grass in a heap. Oscar gave me one rapid lick, then ran his nose over the bar and chain.
“Come, come,” urged Mollie who was trembling with excitement. “It’s getting quite light.”
It seemed still dark to me, for I was almost blind from fatigue.
That sagacious dog picked up the bar in his strong, white teeth, walked slowly ahead, and I dragged myself after him.
That walk to the widow’s house was a nightmare of pain. I was tormented in every limb. Mollie ran ahead, and mewed at the back door, and the widow, who was half dressed only, opened it and stared at us in amazement.
“The black dog,” she said, “and Mollie with him, and Oscar carrying his bar. Goodness gracious! What does this mean?”
In the midst of my pain and confusion, I remembered that I must identify myself. I crawled to the corner of the fireplace where she always set my saucer of milk, when master was having his cup of tea, for we often called here when out automobiling. I squealed and tried to jump in the air, but tumbled forward instead.