Seizing the doll in his mouth, Splash swam back with her to the boat.  Bunny stretched out his hand to take the doll, but Splash would not give it up to him.  The dog knew that boys don’t play with dolls, and that this one belonged to Sue.  So Splash swam around to the other side of the boat where Sue was anxiously waiting, and he let her take the doll from his mouth.

“Good dog!” cried Sue, patting him with one hand.  Then she began to squeeze the water out of her doll’s dress.

“I’m glad I didn’t bring my best doll,” said Sue.  “This is only one of my old ones, and it won’t hurt her to get wet.  I was going to give her a bath, anyhow, but I didn’t mean to leave her clothes on.  Anyhow, she’ll soon dry, I guess.”

Sue put the doll down beside her, on the seat, where the hot sun would dry up the water.  Splash put his two paws on the edge of the boat, and Mr. Brown and Bunker Blue helped him in.

“Now you be quiet, Splash!” called Mr. Brown.  “Don’t go shaking the water off yourself, as you always do when you come in from a swim.  For we can’t get far enough away from you in the boat, and you’ll get us all wet.  Don’t shake yourself!”

I don’t know whether or not Splash understood what Mr. Brown said.  At any rate, the dog went back to his place in the bow, and did not shake the water off his dripping fur.  Whenever he did that he made a regular shower.

The boat was soon close to the other shore.  Bunker Blue rowed up to a little dock, and tied fast.  Then Mr. Brown helped out Bunny and Sue.  Splash did not need any help.  He jumped out himself and ran on ahead, now giving himself a good shake to get rid of the water drops.

A short walk brought the party to Mr. Trimble’s farm.  The cross farmer was not in the house, but his wife said he was out in the barn, and there Mr. Brown found him.

“Well, what do you want?” asked Mr. Trimble in that cross voice of his.  He seemed never to smile.

“I came to see if you have that boy I’m taking care of—­Tom Vine,” said Mr. Brown.  “Did you take him away?”

“No, I did not,” said Mr. Trimble, crossly.

“Do you know where he is?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Have you seen him at all?” asked Bunny’s father.  “Yesterday he went to the spring for a pail of water, but he did not come back.  We are afraid something has happened to him.  Then I thought perhaps you might have taken him, though you had no right to.”

“Well, I didn’t take him, though I had a right to,” growled the farmer.  “I hired that boy to work for me, and I gave him a suit of clothes, besides feeding him.  He didn’t stay with me long enough to pay for what I gave him.  And if I catch him I’ll make him work out what he owes me.  But I haven’t seen him since he was in your camp.  I wish I did have him now.  I’d make him step lively, and do some work!”

So Mr. Brown had his trip for nothing.  Tom was not at the Trimble farm, that was sure.