Dorothy Dale's Camping Days by Margaret Penrose
page 71 of 208 (34%)
page 71 of 208 (34%)
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"Oh don't" begged Cologne. "Tavia, that is dangerous!" Her voice was rather strained, Cologne was annoyed. Tavia jumped up, and, with a most unladylike "whoop," ran from one end of the loft to the other, exclaiming at every new found article of interest. Suddenly she stopped. "Now what do you suppose she is at?" asked Dorothy, as she and Cologne listened. "Maybe Jack's pipes. I am sure she would be interested in them. He has quite a collection." "Oh! G-i-r-l-s!" came a shout from the loft. "Come quick! A wild animal!" The voice left no room for doubt. Tavia did see something. Cologne and Dorothy dropped their work and scrambled up the ladder. "Over here!" Tavia was on all fours, peering behind an old door that lay close to the side timbers of the barn. "Just look! His hair stands up like a porcupine, and his eyes! Oh, my! such eyes!" Cologne and Dorothy looked. "There certainly is something," admitted Cologne. |
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