The creature was running from one end of the lumber pile to the other—always being careful to remain at a respectful distance—and was giving vent to an unending series of frenzied barks.
The open country lay just beyond the Simpson house, and the girl’s first thought was that some small-game animal had taken refuge in some cranny of the lumber. Urged on by her curiosity, she stepped out of the house and started toward the rear of the yard.
“It’s a rabbit, mebbe, or a squirrel,” she told herself. “Why don’t the fool dig at it, though, instead of yelping its head off?”
But by that time she had reached a point from which she could get a view of the rear end of the lumber pile. Suddenly she halted in her tracks.
“For the love of Heaven!” she muttered. “That’s funny! Who’s been monkeying with that lumber? It’s been piled over in the night, or some of it has been swiped, and they’ve left a hole underneath. That’s where the mutt’s rabbit, or whatever it is, is making itself scarce.”
Vaguely disturbed by her surprising discovery, she approached the spot more slowly.
“There seems to be as much lumber as ever,” she decided, “but what does it mean? Who would have taken the trouble to do that—in the dead of night, too—if he wasn’t up to some mischief?”
Now the dog caught sight of her and came running forward. She shooed him away, and he began barking at her, but the barks now had a pleading note in them, and again and again he ran back to the pile of lumber.
“He wants me to help him, the poor boob!” the girl thought, with a pitying smile. “Ain’t that just like a fool dog?”