Somewhat to Spot's surprise the boys had not come tearing down the road after him.
"It's queer," he said to himself. "I wonder why they don't follow me. This would be fun if they'd only chase me."
Just then he happened to spy a squirrel on a stone wall. Spot made for this gentleman. Keeping a firm hold on his bundle, he through a of blackberry bushes that grew beside the road.
The brambles caught at Spot's bundle and held it fast.
"G-r-r-r!" he . "I don't want to lose sight of that fat fellow. Unless I'm mistaken, it was Squirrel. And I've had an eye out for him for a longtime."
After a few he let go of the bundle of clothes and dashed after the squirrel.
It was Frisky Squirrel. He ran up a tree while Spot was struggling in the blackberry . And he from one tree top to another while Spot followed beneath him, barking furiously.
At last Frisky stopped and sat on a limb, to and scold at old dog Spot.
"What are you doing so far from home?" he demanded after a while.
"I've been swimming in the mill pond with the boys," said old dog Spot.
"Then you'd better go back there at once, unless you want a punishing later," Frisky Squirrel told him. "I can hear them whistling for you."
It wasn't far from the mill pond—that place where they were talking, for Spot's chase of Frisky Squirrel had led him back up the hill again. Now Spot cocked his ear in the direction of the pond and listened. Sure enough! he could hear Johnnie Green's whistle.
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