Prince’s barking was unmistakable now. The other men realised what the sound must mean. It was as convincing as the chapel bell; and that kept on as steadily as a clock pendulum.
The men with Mr. Stagg having spread out on the ice like a skirmishing party, now closed in towards the point from which sounded the dog’s barking. The hardware dealer shouted as he ran. He was the most reckless of them all, and on several occasions came near to falling. The snow over the ice made the footing treacherous, indeed.
Suddenly an object appeared in the smother of falling snow. Hoarsely the dog barked again. Mr. Stagg shouted:
“Hey, Prince! Prince! Here we are!”
The mongrel made for the hardware merchant and almost knocked him over. He was mad with joy. He barked and whined and leaped upon the man; and the sight of Joseph Stagg down on his knees in the snow trying to hug the wriggling dog was certainly one to startle his neighbours.
“Show ’em to us, good dog!” cried Uncle Joe. “Take us to ’em! Where’s Hannah’s Car’lyn? Show us, boy!”
“That dog’s a good un,” declared Rightchild.
“Now you’ve said something,” agreed the eating-house cook.
Prince lapped Mr. Stagg’s face and then ran off through the falling snow, barking and leaping. The men hurried after him. Twice or thrice the dog was back, to make sure that he was followed. Then the men saw something outlined in the driving snow.
“Uncle Joe! Uncle Joe!”