Nellie opened her mouth to say “I won’t,” when with a sudden jerk Brownie tore the leather line from her hand and dashed into the road.

“Here comes a big motor-truck!” screamed Sister.  “Brownie will be run over and killed!”

CHAPTER XII

A LITTLE SHOPPING

The foolish little puppy crouched down directly in the path of the lumbering motor-truck.  The children could feel the ground quivering as the weight of the heavy wheels jarred at every turn.

Brother forgot that he had promised to be careful about automobiles.  He forgot that, bad as it would be for a motor-driver to run over a puppy dog, it would be twenty times worse for him to run down a little boy.  He forgot everything except the fact that his dog was in danger!

“Look out!” shrieked Nellie Yarrow.  “Roddy, come back!”

A huge red touring car, filled with laughing girls, whizzed past him, and after that a light delivery car that had to swerve sharply to avoid striking him.  As Brother reached the dog he thought the motor-truck was going to roll right over him, and he closed his eyes and made a grab for Brownie.  When he opened them, the truck was standing still, two wheels in the ditch, and three men were climbing down and starting toward him.

“Are you hurt, Roddy?” cried Sister, skipping into the road, followed by Nellie.  “My, I thought that truck was going to run over you sure!”

“Come out of the road, you kids!” ordered one of the men roughly, pushing the three children not unkindly over in the direction of the ditch.  “This is no place to stand and talk—­hasn’t your mother ever told you to keep out of the streets?”

The driver of the truck, who was a young man with blue eyes and a quick smile, patted Brownie on the head gently.

“I saw the dog,” he explained to Brother.  “I wouldn’t have run over him, anyway.  Next time, no matter what happens, don’t you run into the road.  Cars going the other way might have struck you, and I didn’t know which way you were going to jump after you got the dog.  No driver wants to run over a dog if he can help it, and you children only make matters worse by dashing in among traffic.”

“I didn’t mean to,” said Brother sorrowfully.  “Only I didn’t want Brownie to get hurt.  I hardly ever dash among traffic, do I, Sister?”

“No, he doesn’t,” declared Sister loyally, while Nellie stood silently by.  “Mother always makes us promise to be careful ’bout dashing.”

The three men laughed.

“Well, as long as you don’t make it a practice, we won’t count this time,” said the man who had told them not to stand talking in the road.  “Now scoot back to the sidewalk—­or, here, George, you take them over.  That’s a nice dog you have.”

George, it proved, was the driver, and he took Sister by one hand and Brother by the other.  Nellie held Sister’s other hand and Brother carried Brownie, and in this order they made their way safely back to the pavement on the other side of the street.