‘Yes, he did,’ answered Jack Frost, a trifle sharply. ‘But I couldn’t help that, you know. Now I am so busy this Autumn weather that I couldn’t spend any more time on him. So I hurried up Butternut Hill, and there at the top, huddled in a tree, sat Boots. The foolish fellow had dreamed that a dog was chasing him. I heard him say so, talking to himself. There he sat and wouldn’t come down. Dream or no dream, he was afraid that the dog was at the foot of the hill. I pinched him and nipped him on ears and nose and toes, but still he wouldn’t move for me. I find that cats never are friendly with me,’ said Jack Frost thoughtfully, and a trifle sadly, too. ‘They are too fond of the fire and their comfort to like me very well.’ ‘Perhaps,’ answered Fleetfoot, trying to be both honest and kind; ‘but you mustn’t mind that, you know. Think how fond of you our reindeer are, and all the Polar Bears. But what is it you want me to do, Jack Frost? You said you had brought me down here to help.’ ‘We must send Buttons back to bed as soon as we can,’ was Jack Frost’s answer. ‘I am a little worried about him. He will catch a cold, I am afraid, out in his night-clothes this frosty night. And this is how I want you to help. I thought you could play you were Boots, Fleetfoot. You Brownies can do anything, I know. You could ring your bell and run on ahead and lead Buttons straight up Butternut Hill to where the real Boots sits in a tree. I chose you, Fleetfoot, because you could run so lightly and so fast. Once Buttons has found Boots, he will carry him home to bed. There isn’t anything else that he can do. And that will be the end of it, I hope. Just think of my being so busy to-night and having to stop for a boy and a cat.’ Here Jack Frost shook his paint-brush so impatiently that Fleetfoot skipped along at his side faster than ever before. ‘Don’t I hear Buttons calling?’ asked Fleetfoot presently, as they stopped a moment for breath. ‘I hear some one calling, “Boots! Boots! Boots!”’ ‘Yes, that is Buttons’ voice,’ answered Jack Frost; ‘I hear him too. Now I will keep out of the way, for I am afraid of giving Buttons a chill, and you lead him up the hill to Boots as fast as you can go.’ All this seemed great fun to Fleetfoot. He watched the little figure in white creeping round and round the barn calling, ‘Boots! Boots! Come home, Boots!’ Then he pulled from his pocket the silver bell he had taken from the neck of the drowsy white fur cat. Tinkle! Tinkle! Tinkle! Fleetfoot crouched close to the ground and rang the bell at Buttons’ feet. ‘Boots!’ called Buttons with a little jump. ‘Where are you? I hear your bell.’ ‘Tinkle! Tinkle! Tinkle!’ called the bell a little farther away, and as Buttons started toward it, Fleetfoot cried, ‘Me-ow!’ in such a natural way that it is no wonder Buttons felt sure it was the voice of the missing Boots.