Then Poke found tongue. “It’s this way: The dog stole a chicken, and got us into a scrape. We thought we’d--er--er--we’d teach him a lesson and sicken him of stealing. And feathers and chickens go together--and--er--er--get the idea, don’t you?” “Sorter!” grinned the hired man. “Kind o’ think I do, sonny. And t’other fellow got tangled up, somehow. Wal, yes, I do see how ’twas.” “Then, if you don’t mind, we’ll be going home.” The hired man waved his hand. “I would, if I was you,” he said. “I’d go home and get into some dry clothes.” The three friends moved down the drive, with Step, a truly disconsolate and melancholy figure between the other two. For a little none of them spoke. It was left to Poke to break the silence with one of his bits of philosophy. “You’ve got to live to learn,” quoth he. “Now, who’d have thought--no use, though, crying over spilt milk! And what on earth made Step want to chain himself up--no; we won’t talk about that, either. But I say, Sam, I tell you there’s a lot of sense in that notion of yours! Safety First for me after this--yes, sir; Safety First every time!” CHAPTER X QUEER TROUBLES It is not to be supposed that Sam Parker, in spite of his exhibition of new self-control in the affair of Step and Tom Orkney, had taken on the gravity of years. There was, indeed, a change in the boy, but it was subtle rather than manifest. Sam worked a little harder than before, but played with no lack of zest. It was to be noted, however, that there was a decrease in the number of scrapes into which he fell. Perhaps Hannibal, Sam’s bull terrier, was first to perceive, if not to understand, the change. Hannibal was a sagacious animal, beyond the follies of puppyhood, but still full of interest in the doings of his master and his friends; fond of a long tramp in their company; and very pleased to doze comfortably in a corner of the club room. The new days were much to Hannibal’s liking. Sam never had been cruel to him, but at times may have been a bit thoughtless. Now, though, Hannibal enjoyed a degree of consideration quite unparalleled in his experience. Lon Gates, shrewdly observant, began to remark that Sam’s visits to the barn resulted in less disturbance of its orderly arrangements. “Ain’t had a hedgehog day lately, have you, Sam?” he queried. “World don’t seem to be so all-fired uncomfortably crowded as it was, eh? And I dunno’s there’s so much genooine solace in kickin’ over buckets as a feller might think there was.” “True enough, Lon,” said the boy soberly.