ollowing him.

"Must stop and keep the hole open," thought Tom; and then, laying his
paper on a tree-trunk, he wrote clearly:--

"Follow the dog to the fir-wood. Pete buried in sand. Bring help,
shovels, axes, ropes.

"T.B."

He rolled this in his neckerchief, tied it round the dog's neck, and
then stood pointing homeward.

"Go home!" he shouted; "fetch--fetch! Go home!"

The dog made no sound, but went off at a long loping gallop, Tom
watching it till it was out of sight, and then cautiously creeping back
into the hole to scoop away some of the sand which lay heaped round the
burrow, to keep watch by one who he felt sure was dead.

All Pete's short-comings were forgotten as Tom sat there, feeling that
he dare do no more for fear of loosening the sand, and bringing it
trickling down like so much water; all he could think of then was, that
a fellow-creature lay buried close to him mutely asking for help, and he
wanted to convince himself that he had done everything possible in the
way of giving that aid.

It was a difficult matter to mentally decide, and there were moments
when he felt that he ought not to have trusted to the dog, but should
have gone himself, for a dozen things might prevent help coming, even if
the dog proved to be a trustworthy messenger.

So strong was this idea, that three times over he was on the point of
starting off to run back; but each time just as he was rising, the sand
came trickling down in a way which showed how soon the burrow would be
closed up; and without air, now that the place had been opened, he felt
that the last chance would be gone.

So Tom settled himself down to keep the burrow clear, trembling at times
as he listened, faintly hoping that the words he spoke now and then
might elicit a reply.

But he hearkened in vain, all was solemnly still save the calls of the
birds, and the rustling made by the rabbits as they chased each other in
and out among the pines. By and by a squirrel came racing up, caught
sight of him, sprang to the nearest tree-trunk, dashed up it, and then
out upon the first big horizontal bar, where it sat twitching its
beautiful tail, scolding him angrily for intruding in what it looked
upon as its own private property.

After a time too there was the cheery call of the nuthatch, and the busy
little bird flitted into sight, to alight upon a pine-trunk, and begin
creeping here and there, head up or head down, peering into every crack,
and pro