father. As they walked they looked carefully on the ground for sight of
the Plush Bear, but he was not to be found.

"I'm sure you must have dropped him about here," said Mr. Rowe, as he
and the fat boy stood beneath the railroad bridge. "But he isn't in
sight. Perhaps some one picked him up."

"Oh, is my nice Plush Bear gone?" sighed Arthur.

He looked all around, but Mr. Bruin, as the Bear was sometimes called,
was not in sight. Then a ragged little boy, who had been flying a kite,
came running along the street.

"What's the matter?" asked the ragged lad. "Did you lose your ball?"

"No; it's my Plush Bear," answered Arthur. "I dropped him out of the car
window, but I don't see him now."

The ragged boy looked up into the tree under which he and the fat boy
and Mr. Rowe were standing. There, right over their heads, stretched
out on a limb to which he seemed to be clinging with all four paws, was
the Plush Bear. The toy had been looking down at Arthur and his father,
and he had been wishing he might call and tell them where he was, but of
course this was not allowed.

"I see him! I'll get him for you!" cried the ragged boy.

In another moment he was climbing the tree, and a little later he tossed
down the Plush Bear, Mr. Rowe catching the toy in his hands.