Pie we will ask no more of you.
Come on!"

We tiptoed out of the cellar and whistled. Ole followed us up the steps.
That is, he did on the second attempt. On the first he fell down with
melodious thumps. We hugged each other, slipped behind a tree and
whistled again.

Ole charged across the yard and into the tree. The line held. I heard
him say something in Norwegian that sounded secular. By that time we
were across the street. There was a low railing around the parking, and
when we whistled again Ole walked right into the railing. The line held
again.

Oh, I'll tell you that Petey boy was a wonder at getting up ideas. Think
of it! Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Edison, Christopher Columbus, old Bill
Archimedes and all the rest of the wise guys had overlooked this simple
little discovery of how to make a neophyte initiate himself. It was too
good to be true. We held a war dance of pure delight, and we whistled
some more. We got behind stone walls, and whistled. We climbed
embankments, and whistled. We slid behind blackberry bushes and ash
piles and across ditches and over hedge fences, and whistled. We were so
happy we could hardly pucker. Think of it! There was Ole Skjarsen, the
most uncontrollable force in Nature, following us like a yellow pup with
his dinner three days overdue. It was as fascinating as guiding a
battleship by wireless.

We slipped across a footbridge over Cedar Creek, and whistled. Ole
missed the bridge by nine yards. There isn't much water in Cedar Creek,
but what there is is strong. It took Ole fifteen minutes to climb the
other bank, owing to a beautiful collection of old barrel-hoops,
corsets, crockery and empty tomato cans which decorated the spot. Did
you ever see a blindfolded man, with his hands tied behind his back,
trying to climb over a city dump? No? Of course not, any more than you
have seen a green elephant. But it's a fine sight, I assure you. When
Ole got out of the creek we whistled him dexterously into a barnyard and
right into the maw of a brindle bull-pup with a capacity of one small
man in two bites--we being safe on the other side of the fence, beyond
the reach of the chain. Maybe that was mean, but Eta Bita Pie is not to
be trifled with when she is aroused. Anyway, the bull got the worst of
it. He only got one bite. Ole kicked in the barn door on the first try,
and demolished a corn-sheller on the second; but on the third he hit the
pup squarely abeam and dropped a beautiful