Mr. Trimble dropped his hoe across a row of potatoes, and walked to where Splash was still barking away in front of the smoke-house.
"Will your dog bite?" asked the farmer.
"No, he is very gentle," answered Mr. Brown. "But I'll call him away while you open the door."
"I'll hold him," said Bunny. "I'll hold him by his collar."
By this time Splash seemed to have barked enough, for he grew quiet. Perhaps he knew the door was going to be opened. He came away when Bunny called him, and the little boy held tightly to the dog's collar.
"I'll help you hold him," cried Sue, and she, too, took hold.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," said Mr. Trimble, with a sour sort of laugh, "but you won't see any boy, or anything else, as far as I know, in this smoke-house. I did pile in some bean poles last fall, and I guess they're there yet, but that's all. Now watch close."
He put his shoulder against the door, and pushed. As it swung open, an animal, something like a little red dog, with a sharp,
