DON IS LOCKED IN
When Don made up his mind to run away from the farm, he chose a time to
do it when Bob would be away at school. For the dog well knew that if
Bob were at home there would be little chance of getting away without
being seen.
Bob always wanted Don with him, and, as soon as the boy came home from
his lessons, the first thing he would do would be to run out to the
kennel to see how Don was.
“Yes,” thought Don to himself, in a way dogs have of thinking, that we
know nothing about, “yes, if I am to run away I must go when Bob is not
at home. Otherwise he might stop me.
“But I won’t run away very far,” thought Don, “and I’ll soon run back
again, to tell these silly farm animals that they are much better off
stopping safely at home.”
That is what Don thought, but things do not always happen the way we
think, or even the way dogs think.
Don walked out of his kennel, after he had had a good dinner, looked
carefully about to see that no one saw him, and off down the road he
trotted.
“I suppose I ought to say good-by to Bob,” thought Don, “but then he
doesn’t always understand my way of talking. Besides, if I said good-by
to him he’d know I was going away, and he’d stop me. So I guess I won’t
wait.”
Don trotted off, past the farmhouse, down the country road. Tabby, the
big yellow cat, was sunning herself on the porch as Don went past.
“Where are you going?” asked Tabby, stretching out her paws.
“Oh, just to take a walk,” answered Don. For he did not want Tabby to
follow him, and, after all, he was _walking_ away, rather than running
away――at least, at first.
“I don’t want any cats chasing after me,” thought Don. “No one takes
any one with him when he runs away――at least Squinty didn’t, and he
ought to know all about running away, for he’s done it twice. No, I’ll
go alone.”
Off Don went.
At first it was very pleasant, trotting along the road, in the shade.
Now and then Don would stop to get a drink at a wayside spring. Or he
might see a flock of birds, and he would chase after them, with his red
tongue hanging out of his mouth. Don did not want to catch the birds,
but he just wanted something to run after, and birds were as good as
anything else.
After a while Don met another dog, named Rover, who lived on the next
farm.
“Hello!” exclaimed Rover, speaking in dog language of course, and
wagging his tail. “Glad to see you, Don. Where you going?”
“Oh, no place, special,” answered Don. He was wondering whether he
might not tell Rover about running away, and ask the other dog to come
with him.
“A dog to run away with would be all right,” thought Don, “but not a
cat. I guess I’ll ask Rover.”
So Don said:
“To tell you the truth, Rover, I don’t know just where I am going. I am
running away, to see the world, and have some adventures, and perhaps
you’d like to come with me.”
“What! Running away?” cried Rover. “Not for me! I’m going to stay home!”
“But think of the adventures we’ll have,” said Don. “Come on!”
“No, thank you,” answered Rover. “Once I ran away, and I was glad
enough to run back again. You will be, too.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Don. “Besides, so many of the animals on
our farm are talking of running away, that I thought if I went, and
came back to tell them all about it, they wouldn’t want to run any
more.”
“Well, perhaps they won’t,” said Rover. “But I’m sure you’ll be glad to
get back.”
“No, I will not!” cried Don, and then he ran quickly and hid behind a
lilac bush.
“What’s the matter?” asked Rover, in a barking whisper.
“Hush!” growled Don. “It’s your master. I don’t want him to see me
here, for when Bob finds I am gone he will hunt for me, and your master
may tell him I was here.”
“All right. Hide,” said Rover. “I won’t tell where you are. But, mind
what I’m telling you. Very glad indeed you’ll be to get back home
again!”
Don did not think so, and, after Rover’s master had passed on, the
runaway dog came out of his hiding place in the bushes, and, saying
good-by to the other dog, off Don went again, down the road.
“Well, I am certainly having a good time,” thought Don. “Squinty was
right about it; there’s lots of fun in running away. No wonder he
didn’t want to run back again.”
On and on trotted Don, stopping now and then to speak to other dogs he
knew, and sometimes resting in the shade near a spring of water. Then
off he would go again.
“Well,” thought Don, after a bit, “I am beginning to feel hungry. Let
me see. What do you do when you get hungry if you are running away? I
meant to ask Squinty about that, but I forgot it. I guess I can find
something to eat.”
This was not as easy as Don had thought it would be. It was quite
different from having Bob, or Bob’s mother or sister, bring out a nice
plate of table scraps or a juicy bone. No one brought Don anything now,
for he was a runaway dog.
“Never mind,” said Don to himself, in a way dogs have, “I guess I can
go up to the back door of one of these houses, and pick up a bone or
two. I’ll try it.”
Just then he was passing a large white house, that looked something
like the one where his kennel was.
“There’s sure to be plenty to eat in a place like that,” thought Don.
Around to the back door he trotted, and, surely enough, he saw on the
ground some bones with bits of meat on them. Don felt more hungry than
ever when he saw them.
“Ah ha!” he whispered to himself, as he licked his teeth with his red
tongue, “now for a fine dinner! Why this is as good as I would get at
home. Who says running away isn’t jolly?”
But, just as Don was going to pick up the nicest bone, a harsh voice
called to him:
“Here! Get out of there! Be off!” and a stone was thrown at Don,
hitting him on the leg.
“Ouch!” he yelped. “Ouch! Bow wow!”
“Get away from there! Get out of this yard!” the harsh voice went on,
and when a window was raised, Don saw a big, fat cook-woman, with a pan
of water in her hand. She was just going to throw it on Don, but he ran
out of the way in time.
“My! How impolite!” thought Don. “I never heard of such treatment! Just
as if it would hurt anything if I took those bones nobody wants! The
idea!”
Don felt quite badly as he ran away. No one had ever treated him that
way before――not even when he was a little puppy, and he was now a big
dog.
“Well, I’ll try another house,” thought Don, as he trotted on. “Maybe
they will be kinder there. Anyhow I’m glad I ran before that fat woman
had time to throw water on me. I wonder if it was hot water?”
Don trotted along, getting hungrier and hungrier every minute, until he
saw another house. This one was painted red, but it was quite as large
as the white one.
“Now to see if I can find a bone in this back yard,” Don thought, as
he ran in. He saw a tin can in one corner of the yard, and from the can
came a nice smell of bones.
“Ah ha!” thought Don. “Something to eat there, I’m sure.”
He went up to the can, and was just lifting the cover off with his paw,
to get at the bone inside, when another harsh voice called to him:
“Be off out of there! I believe you’re the dog who rolled in my
pansy-flower bed the other day. Get away from here! I don’t like dogs!”
Don looked up in time to see the gardener flinging a stone at him, and
Don dodged out of the way, so as not to be hit.
“Be off!” cried the man.
Poor Don tucked his tail between his legs and ran out of the yard. A
stone once more came bounding after him, and almost hit him.
“Well, well!” thought the runaway dog. “This is certainly a hard life!
I’ve been cheated out of my dinner twice. And no one wanted those
bones, either. I don’t see why I couldn’t have had them!”
Don was beginning to find out that it was not so much fun running away
as he had thought it would be. And he was getting so hungry!
On and on he ran, for some distance. Pretty soon he saw another large,
fine house.
“Rich people must live in there,” he thought, “but twice, now, I have
been driven away from big houses. I think I’ll try a smaller one.”
So he went on and on until he came to a little house, where a poor old
lady lived.
Don sniffed and smelled about, looking for a bone. But he could find
none in this yard. However, the lady, looking out of her kitchen
window, saw the dog, and she knew he must be hungry. Then Don saw a bit
of bread lying on the ground. The lady had fed the birds that morning,
and part of the bread was left.
“I’ll get that, anyhow!” thought Don, and he swallowed it very quickly.
“Poor dog! I believe you’re hungry!” said the lady, kindly.
“Ha! I _know_ I’m hungry,” said Don to himself, for of course he could
not speak to the lady in her language.
“I’ll give you a bone,” she said, and she threw something out of the
window at Don. At first the runaway dog thought it was another stone,
but as soon as he smelled the bone he knew better.
“But I’m not going to run any chances,” Don thought. So, with a bark of
thanks to the kind lady, Don caught the bone in his teeth, and out he
ran with it into the street. And no sooner had he gotten there, than
another dog, bigger than Don, saw him.
“Hold on!” cried the other dog. “Give me that bone! It’s mine!”
“I beg your pardon,” spoke Don, politely, for he had been brought up
that way, “but this is my bone――a lady gave it to me.”
“No it isn’t! It’s mine!” growled the other dog, and he began to run
after Don. But Don was not going to lose the bone the kind lady had
given him, so away he ran as fast as he could go, with the other dog
following after, like Jack and Jill falling down hill, you know.
“Stop! Stop! Give me that bone!” cried the bad dog.
“No! No!” answered Don.
Though the other dog was larger and stronger than Don, he could not run
as fast, and Don was soon out of sight around the corner, trotting as
fast as he could go, with the bone in his mouth.
“Well, so far so good,” thought Don. “I never imagined before that it
was so hard and dangerous to get anything to eat. It isn’t this way on
the farm. Still I am running away――that is something, and I suppose
these are only adventures.”
Soon Don came to a quiet, shady place, near where a street-fountain of
water bubbled up.
[Illustration: Other dogs, coming to the fountain to get a drink,
wanted to take Don’s bone away from him.]
“I’ll lie down here and eat my bone,” thought Don. But it was not as
easy to do as he thought. As soon as he began to gnaw the meat off the
bone, other dogs, coming to the fountain to get a drink, wanted to take
Don’s bone away from him. At last Don said:
“Well, I’ll have no peace or quietness here. I’ll find another place.”
Picking up his bone, he ran on until he came to a railroad station. Don
knew what this was, for the railroad ran not far from the farm, and Don
had often gone to the depot with Bob to see the trains go by.
Don saw a big brown freight car, with the door open, standing on the
track.
“I’ll get in there and eat my bone,” thought Don, and with one jump, up
into the car he leaped. There no other dogs bothered him as he gnawed
the juicy bone, and then, after this little lunch, Don fell asleep.
How long he slept he did not know, but when he awoke he found himself
in the dark, and the car was rumbling along over the track.
“Oh, the train must have started!” thought Don. “I must get out.” But,
when he tried, he found the door of the freight car was tightly shut.
Poor Don was locked in.