d
in the distance; and as they approached a huge wood-pile on the left
side of the road, they saw a small woolly form perched on a little rise
of ground, howling most melodiously at the August moon, that hung like a
ball of red fire in the cloudless sky.

"That's a sign of death in the family, ain't it, Jabe?" whispered Miss
Vilda faintly.

"So they say," he answered cheerfully; "but if 't is, I can 'count for
it, bein' as how I fertilized the pond lilies with a mess o' four white
kittens this afternoon; and as Rags was with me when I done it, he may
know what he's bayin' 'bout,--if 't is Rags, 'n' it looks enough like
him to be him,--'n' it is him, by Jiminy, 'n' Timothy's sure to be
somewheres near. I'll get out 'n' look roun' a little."

"You set right still, Jabe, I'll get out myself, for if I find that boy
I've got something to say to him that nobody can say for me."

As Jabe drew the wagon up beside the fence, Rags bounded out to meet
them. He knew Maria, bless your soul, the minute he clapped his eyes on
her, and as he approached Miss Vilda's congress boot his quivering
whiskers seemed to say, "Now, where have I smelled that boot before? If
I mistake not, it has been applied to me more than once. Ha! I have it!
Miss Vilda Cummins of the White Farm, owner of the white cat and
hash-pan, and companion of the lady with the firm hand, who wields the
broom!" whereupon he leaped up on Miss Cummins's black alpaca skirts,
and made for her flannel garters in a way that she particularly
disliked.

"Now," said she, "if he's anything like the dogs you hear tell of, he'll
take us right to Timothy."

"Wall, I don' know," said Jabe cautiously; "there's so many kinds o'
dorg in him you can't hardly tell what he will do. When dorgs is mixed
beyond a certain p'int it kind o' muddles up their instincks, 'n' you
can't rely on 'em. Still you might try him. Hold still, 'n' see what
he'll do."

Miss Vilda "held still," and Rags jumped on her skirts.

"Now, set down, 'n' see whar he'll go."

Miss Vilda sat down, and Rags went into her lap.

"Now, make believe start somewheres, 'n' mebbe he'll get ahead 'n' put
you on the right track."

Miss Vilda did as she was told, and Rags followed close at her heels.

"Gorry! I never see sech a fool!--or wait,--I'll tell you what's the
matter with him. Mebbe he ain't sech a fool as he looks. You see, he
knows Timothy wants to run away and don't want to be found 'n' clapped
into a 'syl