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“All right then, Bob,” encouraged Mr. Whitney. “Start from the beginning and tell us everything that’s happened.”,

Then, as suddenly as the hope had come, it fled. Possibly Mr. Whitney had not come back! Feather-in-the-Wind alone would be no use! He must get out himself!,

Just as the crowd was growing weary, the roar of a high powered gasoline engine drowned out the noise they were making. With the muffler cut out open and the exhaust snapping explosions like the reports of young cannon, a car dashed down the street and stopped with a jerk. Out of it hopped Big Boss Whitney.,

“Oh”—Further probing on Mother’s part to find out what Aunt Grenertsen’s share of the harvest had amounted to, drew forth the truth, uttered with a show of enthusiasm.

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When the children found themselves all alone, they began to scream and cry with all their might. Little Thumbling let them scream, well knowing how he could get home again, for on their way to the forest, he had dropped all along the road the little white pebbles he had in his pockets. He then said to them, "Have no fear, brothers; my father and mother have left us here, but I will take you safely home; only follow me." They followed him, and he led them back to the house by the same road that they had taken to the forest. They were afraid to go inside at once, but placed themselves close to the door, to listen to what their father and mother were saying. It chanced that just at the moment that the woodcutter and his wife reached home, the lord of the manor sent them ten crowns, which he had owed them a long time, and which they had given up all hope of receiving. This was new life to them, for the poor things were actually starving. The woodcutter immediately sent his wife to the butcher's, and, as it was many a day since they had tasted meat, she bought three times as much as was sufficient for two people's supper. When they had appeased their hunger, the woodcutter's wife said, "Alas! where now are our poor children? They would fare merrily on what we have left. But it was you, William, who would lose them. Truly did I say we should repent it. What are they now doing in the forest? Alas! Heaven help me! the wolves have, perhaps, already devoured them. Cruel man that you are, thus to have lost your children!",

“Sorry,” sympathized Bob, “but I guess they found I’d got out and that scared ’em.”,

Turn your steps—and check your ire,,

“Because—because his name has been written in the police records today, and the policeman took him there, and so it was horrid that this report should say he was a credit”—