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Tale of Old Dog Spot

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<h2>IX A BUNDLE OF CLOTHES</h2> Old dog Spot was trotting down the road with the bundle of clothes in his mouth—the clothes which belonged to Johnnie Green's friend Red, who was one of the swimming party in the mill pond. Somewhat to Spot's surprise the boys had not come tearing down the road after him. "It's queer," he said to himself. "I wonder why they don't follow me. This would be fun if they'd only chase me." Just then he happened to spy a squirrel on a stone wall. Spot promptly made for this gentleman. Keeping a firm hold on his bundle, he plunged through a tangle of blackberry bushes that grew beside the road. The thorny brambles caught at Spot's bundle and held it fast. "G-r-r-r!" he growled. "I don't want to lose sight of that fat fellow. Unless I'm mistaken, it was Frisky Squirrel. And I've had an eye out for him for a longtime." After a few frantic tugs he let go of the bundle of clothes and dashed after the squirrel. It was Frisky Squirrel. He ran up a tree while Spot was struggling in the blackberry thicket. And he scampered from one tree top to another while Spot followed beneath him, barking furiously. At last Frisky stopped and sat on a limb, to chatter and scold at old dog Spot. "What are you doing so far from home?" he demanded after a while. "I've been swimming in the mill pond with the boys," said old dog Spot. "Then you'd better go back there at once, unless you want a punishing later," Frisky Squirrel told him. "I can hear them whistling for you." It wasn't far from the mill pond—that place where they were talking, for Spot's chase of Frisky Squirrel had led him back up the hill again. Now Spot cocked his ear in the direction of the pond and listened. Sure enough! he could hear Johnnie Green's whistle. "I'll see you again," he told Frisky Squirrel. "Not if I see you first!" Frisky muttered as old Spot started through the woods for the mill pond. "Come here!" Johnnie Green greeted him sternly when, a few minutes later, he appeared on the bank. "Where are those clothes that you took?" Spot wagged his tail. He acted very, very friendly. Nobody would have supposed, from his looks, that he had stolen anyone's clothes. "This is no joke," Johnnie Green declared. "I haven't anything to wear. Get those clothes and bring them back here!" "I don't know what's the matter with Johnnie," Spot thought. "I didn't touch his things. I don't see why he's so angry." "Good old Spot!" Johnnie coaxed. "Find the clothes! There's a good fellow!" He waded toward the bank and snapped his fingers at Spot. The old dog edged away. Johnnie talked pleasantly enough. But he had a queer look in his eye. Spot thought it safer to keep out of his clutches. Just then the miller came driving up the hill on a load of corn. When he saw the boys in the pond he stopped his horses. "Anybody here lost any clothes?" he asked, holding a bundle up in his hand. "I found these by the side of the road. I noticed them hanging on a blackberry bush." "I'll take 'em!" Johnnie Green cried. "They belong to Red. But you can leave them with me." The miller tossed the bundle to him. The boy Red, wearing Johnnie's clothes, was watching everything that went on, from behind a tree. He waited until Johnnie had untied the hard, wet knots in the clothes. Then he stepped out from his hiding place. "Let's swap!" he said. And while they were swapping, old dog Spot took a swim in the mill pond. Somehow he felt that all was well again. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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