What should he do, sit still or run? Somehow he was afraid to do either. Just then the matter was settled for him. “_Thump, thump, thump!_” the signal came along the ground from the Old Briar-patch, and almost any one would have known just by the short sharp sound that those thumps meant “Run!” At just the same instant, the dog caught the scent of Tommy full and strong. With a roar of his great voice he sprang forward, his nose in Tommy’s tracks. Tommy waited no longer. With a great bound he leaped forward in the direction of the Old Briar-patch. How he did run! A dozen bounds brought him to the Old Briar-patch, and there just before him was a tiny path under the brambles. He didn’t stop to question how it came there or who had made it. He dodged in and scurried along it to the very middle of the Old Briar-patch. Then he stopped to listen and look. The dog had just reached the edge of the briars. He knew where Tommy had gone. Of course he knew. His nose told him that. He thrust his head in at the entrance to the little path and tried to crawl in. But the sly old brambles tore his long tender ears, and he yelped with pain now instead of with the excitement of the chase. Then he backed out, whining and yelping. He ran around the edge of the Old Briar-patch looking for some place where he could get in more comfortably. But there was no place, and after a while he gave up and went off. Tommy sat right where he was until he was quite sure that the dog had gone. When he _was_ quite sure, he started to explore the dear Old Briar-patch, for he was very curious to see what it was like in there. He found little paths leading in all directions. Some of them led right through the very thickest tangles of ugly looking brambles, and Tommy found that he could run along these with never a fear of a single scratch. And as he hopped along, he knew that here he was safe, absolutely safe from most of his enemies, for no one bigger than he could possibly get through those briars without being terribly scratched. So it was with a very comfortable feeling that Tommy peered out through the brambles and watched that annoying dog trot off in disgust. He felt that never, so long as he was within running distance of the dear Old Briar-patch, would he be afraid of a dog. Right into the midst of his pleasant thoughts broke a rude “_Thump, thump, thump!_” It wasn’t a danger-signal this time. That is, it didn’t mean “Run for your life.” Tommy was very sure of that. And yet it might be a kind of danger-signal, too. It all depended on what Tommy decided to do. There it was again--“_Thump, thump, thump!_” It had an ugly, threatening sound. Tommy knew just as well as if there had been spoken words instead of mere thumps on the ground that he was being warned to get out of the Old Briar-patch--that he had no right there, because it belonged to some one else.