There is no telling how long the others would have been forced to endure the teasing of the Play Fellows, if a gong had not sounded from a distant part of the grounds. Immediately the whole company trooped off: and, without waiting to find out the meaning of the bell, Grampa’s army rushed to the nearest exits.
“I’m done for!” gasped Percy Vere, rolling under a tree. “Let me curl up like a pretzel and bake—I mean die!” Toto, who had followed close upon the heels of the harassed company, curled up beside him.
“But where’s Urtha?” cried Tatters, staring around wildly. “Where’s Grampa?”
“She ran away long ago,” crowed Bill, flying over the fence. “That way!” He pointed his claw toward the East.
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear, where is the old soldier?” wailed Dorothy, jumping up and down with impatience. “We ought to get away from here quick.”
“I’ll find him,” volunteered Bill. “Wait here.” Back went the devoted weather cock and, after flying over the entire play grounds, he found Grampa asleep under a checker bush.
“Wake up!” cried Bill, jumping up and down on his chest. “The coast is clear. Forward march, by the name of Grampa!”
The old soldier stirred uneasily, rubbed his eyes and then sprang up but immediately tumbled down again, for while he slept, the wretched Play Fellows had run off with his game leg.