This was an old-time threat of his guardian. It was worn so threadbare that Dave did not pay much attention to it. He proceeded silently about his task, unhitched Dobbin, led him to his stall, and made him comfortable for the night with feed and bedding.
As Dave came out into the yard again he made a speedy run for the wagon. His guardian had been poking about the vehicle, and had discovered the sweater roll. This he now held, turning it over and over in his hand and viewing it curiously.
“Here!” shouted Dave, “that’s mine.”
“Oh, is it?” snapped the old man, holding the bundle out of Dave’s reach. “What is it? I’m going to see.”
“I don’t mean that it belongs to me,” Dave corrected himself, “but I found it.”
“What is it?”
“It fell out of an airship. It lighted on Dobbin’s back. That’s what made him run away.”
“Fell from an airship?” repeated old Warner with a sniff of disbelief. “Romancing, hey?”
“No, I am not, I am telling you the truth,” persisted Dave.
“Hello! hello! Here, what’s this?”