The big cat came up to Freddie, and rubbed against his legs.  The little boy rubbed her back and the cat’s tail stood up stiff and straight, like the flag pole in front of Mr. Bobbsey’s office.

“I thought you were a rat, Sawdust,” went on Freddie.  “But I’m glad you weren’t.  I like you!”

The cat purred again.  She seemed to like Freddie, too.  Soon she curled up beside him, and Freddie put his arm around her.  And, before he knew it he was asleep again, and so was Sawdust.  She had found her way into the queer play-house while wandering about the lumber yard as she often did, taking walks, I suppose, to make sure there were no mice or rats about.

It was not long after this that Mr. Bobbsey left the office to go over to one part of his lumber yard to see about some boards a man wanted to buy.  On the way Freddie’s father passed the place where James, the watchman, was sitting by the shingles.

“Well, did Freddie bother you much?” asked Mr. Bobbsey.  “I’ll look after him now, as I’m not so busy.”

“Why no, he didn’t bother me, Mr. Bobbsey,” said the watchman.  “He wanted to build a toy boat, and he brought some nails and string.  I had to go over to help Jason load his wagon, and when I came back, having left Freddie to hunt for some boards, he wasn’t here.  Didn’t he go back to the office?”

“Why no, he didn’t!” exclaimed Mr. Bobbsey, in some alarm.  “I haven’t seen him.  I wonder where he can have gone?”

They looked up and down the rows between the piles of lumber, but no Freddie could be seen.

“Perhaps he went home,” said James.  “You could find out by calling Mrs. Bobbsey on the telephone.”

“So I could, yes.  But if I asked if Freddie were home she would want to know why I asked, and why he wasn’t here with me—­that is, if he wasn’t at home.  Then she would worry for fear something had happened to him.  No, I’ll have to find out in some other way.”

“I could take a walk down past the house,” the watchman said.  “I could look in and see if Freddie was there.  If he wasn’t, we’d know he was somewhere around the yard yet.”

“Well, you might do that,” Mr. Bobbsey said.  He himself was a little worried now.  “But don’t let Mrs. Bobbsey see you,” he went on to James.  “If she did she’d want to know what you were doing away from the yard.  Just walk past the house.  If Freddie is at home he’ll be out in the yard playing.  If you don’t see him let me know.  Meanwhile, I’ll be searching around here for him, and I’ll get some of the men to look with me.”

“All right,” agreed James, hurrying off.  While he was gone Mr. Bobbsey looked around the many lumber piles near the bundles of shingles where Freddie had last been seen.  But no little boy was in sight, being, as we know, fast asleep, with the big yard cat, under the pile of boards which had fallen in the shape of a little play-house.

“This is queer,” thought Mr. Bobbsey.  “Freddie never goes home by himself after he has come to see me without telling me that he is going.  I wonder where he is.”