CHAPTER NINE


Flea and Flukey Cronk, followed by the yellow dog, made their way
farther and farther from Ithaca. They had left the university in the
distance, when a dim streak of light warned them that day was
approaching. It was here that Flea lagged behind her brother.

"Ye're tired, Flea," said Flukey.

"Yep."

"Will ye crawl into a haystack if we come to one?"

"Yep."

They spoke no more until, farther on, a farmhouse, with dark barns in
the rear, loomed up before them.

"Ye wait here, Flea," said Flukey, "till I see where we can sleep."

After an absence of a few minutes he returned and in silence conducted
the girl by a roundabout way to a newly piled stack of hay.

"I burried a place for us both," he whispered. "Ye crawl in first, Flea,
and I'll bring in Snatchet. Lift yer leg up high and ye'll find the
hole."

A minute later they were tucked away from the cold morning, their small
faces overshadowed by the new-mown hay, and here, through the morning