“Nice doggie,” called Chub, soothingly. “Nice doggie! Go away, Rover!”
“Try ‘Prince,’” Roy suggested.
“Try it yourself! I wonder if there’s any one in here. You fellows look after the door and I’ll go and see.”
Chub walked through the kitchen into a little narrow entry and called loudly. But there was no answer.
He returned to the others.
“Still there?” he asked, in a whisper.
“I don’t know,” muttered Roy. “I don’t hear anything. Maybe he’s gone. Can you see from the window?”
Chub walked over to the nearest casement and looked out.
“He’s lying on the porch with his nose about half an inch from the door,” he reported, disgustedly. “He’s a Saint Bernard, I guess.”
“I don’t care what he is,” said Roy. “He’s a nuisance. What shall we do?”