“How did you happen to go with the circus?” asked Shep.

“They picked me up at Centerport.  They saw that I was limber and could do a turn or two, and they made me join.  They promised me good wages and a fine time, but as soon as we got on the road they treated me worse than my dog.”

“Your dog?”

“Yes.  I had a dog, and I said I wouldn’t join unless they took the dog, too.  Jones wanted me to give him, the dog—–­he was a fine collie—–­but I wouldn’t do it, and when I left I took my dog with me.”

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know.  He ran away several days ago, and I haven’t seen him since.”

“And he was a collie?” asked Snap.

“Yes.”  Tommy Cabot’s eyes brightened expectantly.  “You haven’t seen him, have you?  He must be somewhere around these lakes.”

“We found a dog—–­a collie.  He’s got a tag on his collar—–­number 444.”

“My dog!” cried the circus boy.  “Oh, I’ll be glad to see him!  He’s my best friend, even if he did run away.  Anyway, I guess he went to get something to eat.  I hadn’t much for him.”

“What do you call your dog?” asked the doctor’s son.

“Wags—–­because he moves his tail so much.”

“Well, I never!  That’s what we dubbed him.”

“Tell me,” broke in Snap.  “Do you know what happened at the circus after you left?”

“I heard that some of the animals got away.  I didn’t hear the particulars.  I went down among the farms and laid low, waiting for the circus to go east.”

“A lion got away, and also Abe, the educated chimpanzee.  The circus folks think those men who were discharged and you were responsible.”

“Me!  I didn’t do it, and I never had anything to do with those men who were discharged.  They were a hard crowd.”

A little later the camp was gained.  As soon as the dog saw Tommy Cabot he became frantic with joy and leaped up and licked the hand of his youthful master.  Tommy fairly hugged Wags to his breast.

Of course, Whopper and Giant were surprised to see the circus boy and glad to know the boat had been found.  How the craft had gotten loose was a mystery nobody was able to solve.

A substantial breakfast was prepared for the circus boy, and while he was eating he told his story in detail—–­how his parents had died years before, and how his sister Grace had been taken by some friends in the Middle West.

“I sold papers and blacked boots for a living, and I learned to do handsprings and the like,” said Tommy.  “Then the circus came along and I went with it, taking Wags.  Some of the circus men were kind to me, but most of them were rough, and Jones and Casso were cruel.  When I ran away I made up my mind I’d never go back, but would try to get work in some city and also try to find my sister Grace.  But I ran short of money and then I came out here, thinking I could get work on some farm, or go with some sportsmen to carry their traps for ’em.  But I didn’t find any farms out here, and the only sportsmen I met were some well-dressed young fellows who jeered me and called me a scarecrow—–­I suppose on account of my shabby clothes.”  The circus boy still wore the big suit of rags the young hunters had noticed before.