your hand," said Dorothy.

"I want to make sure he does not revive," she replied, gingerly poking
the rake handle a little further under the hidden corner.

"Oh, here," exclaimed Dorothy impatiently. "Let me take that implement
and you hold this door. We ought to get the animal out in time for
lunch."

They shifted positions. Dorothy jabbed the rake recklessly into the
corner. Tavia moaned, and Cologne groaned.

Drag--drag--It was coming out.

"Mercy!" exclaimed Tavia.

"Goodness me!" gasped Cologne.

But Dorothy, who was the only one near the thing, simply dropped the
rake and stood aghast--too dumbfounded to utter a syllable!

"What is it?" begged Cologne.

"_A WINDOW BRUSH!_" she gasped, at the same moment stooping to pick up
the beast--the thing with the straight, long black hair that stood
up in fierce bristles!

[Illustration: "A WINDOW BRUSH!" SHE GASPED. _Dorothy Dale's Camping
Days Page 84_]