Of course he did. The minute he found that
road, a great load was taken from his mind. He no longer felt wholly
lost. He was certain that all he had to do was to keep in that road, and
sooner or later he would come to a house. The thing that worried him
most was whether or not he would have strength enough to keep going
until he reached that house. You remember that he was weak from lack of
food, lame, and half frozen.

Poor old Bowser! He certainly was the picture of misery as he limped
along that road. His tail hung down as if he hadn't strength enough to
hold it up. His head also hung low. He walked on three legs and limped
with one of these. In his eyes was such a look of pain and suffering as
would have touched the hardest heart. He whined and whimpered as he
limped along.

It seemed to him that he had gone a terribly long distance, though
really it was not far at all, when something tickled his nose, that
wonderful nose which can smell the tracks of others long after they have
passed. But this time it wasn't the smell of a track that tickled his
nose; it was something in the air. Bowser lifted his head and sniffed
long and hard. What he smelled was smoke. He knew what that meant.
Somewhere not very far ahead of him was a house.

[Illustration: SOMEWHERE NOT VERY FAR AHEAD OF HIM WAS A HOUSE. _Page
96._]

With new hope and courage Bowser tried to hurry on. Presently around a
turn of the road he saw a farmyard. The smell of the smoke from the
chimney of the farmhouse was stronger now, and with it was mingled an
appetizing smell of things cooking. Into Bowser's whimper there now
crept a little note of eagerness as he dragged himself across the
farmyard and up to the back door. There his strength quite left him. He
didn't have enough left to even bark. All he could do was whine. After
what seemed a long, long time the door opened, and a motherly woman
stood looking down at him. Two minutes later Bowser lay on a mat close
by the kitchen stove.

CHAPTER XXI

BOWSER BECOMES A PRISONER

There is no one in all the Great World more faithful than a
faithful dog.

_Bowser the Hound._

Bowser the Hound was a prisoner. Yes, Sir, Bowser was a sure-enough
prisoner. But there is a great difference in prisons. Bowser was a
prisoner of kindness. It seems funny that kindness should ever make any
one a prisoner, but it is so sometimes.

You see, it was this way: When Bowser had been taken in to that