"I am not squalling, but I feel
badly to lose a chum like those boys were. So do you, too."
"I sure do," answered Jack poking about Tom's discovery. "I'd feel awful
to lose a good friend even if he was a black sheep."
As Jack spoke he held up on the end of a stick a small tuft of wool
which had adhered to the end of his staff. With it came the odor of
burned flesh again. Jack smilingly pulled Tom's sleeve.
"The boys are safe," he said, exhibiting the wool. "It was a black sheep
that burned. Arnold and Harry are not black sheep."
"Good, oh, goody," cried Tom, capering about. "That's just fine."
In a short time the boys finished their search now fully convinced that
whatever might have happened to Harry and Arnold they were not now in
the ruins of the burned cabin.
"Now let's get Rowdy to help us track the boys to wherever they went,"
suggested Tom. "I'd like to find 'em."
"Good idea," responded Frank. "Let's do that. Here, Rowdy."
"Fine," declared Jack. "Just the thing, if he'll do it."
But the boys were doomed to another disappointment. Rowdy, after being
put on the scent by Tom, circled about a while and then started off in
the direction of the leaning oak. Although the boys tried to drive him
off that trail a number of times, the bulldog persisted in following
that route or none. At last they yielded.
Straight back to the oak went Rowdy. There he stopped and gazed over the
water for a moment, then let out a howl that echoed and reechoed across
the water.
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