still barking.

"Hullo, doggie--hullo!" Pollyanna snapped her fingers at the dog
and looked expectantly down the path. She had seen the dog once
before, she was sure. He had been then with the Man, Mr. John
Pendleton. She was looking now, hoping to see him. For some
minutes she watched eagerly, but he did not appear. Then she
turned her attention toward the dog.

The dog, as even Pollyanna could see, was acting strangely. He
was still barking--giving little short, sharp yelps, as if of
alarm. He was running back and forth, too, in the path ahead.
Soon they reached a side path, and down this the little dog
fairly flew, only to come back at once, whining and barking.

"Ho! That isn't the way home," laughed Pollyanna, still keeping
to the main path.

The little dog seemed frantic now. Back and forth, back and
forth, between Pollyanna and the side path he vibrated, barking
and whining pitifully. Every quiver of his little brown body, and
every glance from his beseeching brown eyes were eloquent with
appeal--so eloquent that at last Pollyanna understood, turned,
and followed him.

Straight ahead, now, the little dog dashed madly; and it was not
long before Pollyanna came upon the reason for it all: a man
lying motionless at the foot of a steep, overhanging mass of rock
a few yards from the side path.