“Oh!  I’d never do that!” cried Sue.  “I wouldn’t mind playing with the little chickens that came out of the eggs, but I wouldn’t run away,” she said earnestly.  “I wouldn’t want to sleep in a haystack lessen Bunny was with me.”

“Well, when you two make up your minds to run away,” said Mrs. Brown with a laugh, “tell us, and we’ll come for you when night falls and bring you home.  Then you can sleep in your own beds and run away the next day.

“That will be great!” cried Bunny.  “We’ll do it that way, Sue.”

“That’s what we will!” said she.

They were at the Browns’ house now, and Dix, the dog that belonged to the runaway boy, turned to go back home.  Splash barked at him as much as to say: 

“Oh, come on, old fellow, stay and have a good time.  Maybe I can find a choice bone or two.”

But Dix wagged his tail and barked, and if one had understood dog language, of which I suppose there must be one, he would, perhaps, have heard Dix say: 

“No, old chap.  I’m sorry I can’t come to play with you now.  Some other time, perhaps.  There’s trouble at home you know, and I’d better stay around there.”

Then Splash and Dix looked at each other for a little while, saying never a word, as one might call it, only looking at each other.  They seemed to understand, however, for, with a final wagging of their tails, away they ran, Dix back to the Ward home where the mother and the father were grieving for their lost boy, and Splash on to the happy home of the Browns.

“Now, Daddy, you can tell us about that auto trip we are going to take, while mother is seeing to the supper,” called Bunny as he pulled his father toward a big armchair, while Sue clung to her father on the other side.

“Not until after the meal,” insisted Mr. Brown.  “I want to tell it to mother and you all at the same time.  That will save me from talking so much.  Besides, I haven’t yet told the police about missing Fred Ward.”

Mr. Brown soon called the chief on the telephone wire.  Being the president of the police board, Mr. Brown often had to give orders.

In this case he told the chief about Fred running away, how long the boy had been gone, and about the note saying he was going to join a theater company.

“We’d better get some circulars printed, with the boy’s picture on them,” said Mr. Brown to the chief.  “These we can send to other cities.  And we’ll notify the police by telephone.  I’ll be down to see you this evening.”

“All right,” answered the chief.  “I’ll get right after this boy.”

“And tell whoever catches him to be good and kind to him,” said Mr. Brown.  “Fred is not a bad boy.  He feels that he has not been treated well, and he’ll do his best to hide away.  But a boy with a banjo, who is crazy to play in a show, ought not be very hard to find.”

“No, I think we’ll soon pick him up,” the chief said.