The Corner House Girls' Odd Find Part 23

Barnabetta sprang forward, crying: "You're not goin' so fast! Is she, Pop?"

Agnes had forgotten the clown. He had come silently around the other side of the fire-evidently at some signal from Barnabetta-and was now right at her elbow.

"Grab her, Pop! Don't let her get away!" cried the circus girl, commandingly.

Agnes would have run; but she fairly b.u.mped into the little man. He seized her by both arms, and she found that she was powerless against him.

At this point Agnes Kenway became thoroughly frightened. She opened her lips and screamed for help.

Instantly there was a scrambling in the brush beside the overturned pile of ties, a savage growl, and a s.h.a.ggy body sprang into sight and charged the struggling Corner House girl and the man who held her.

CHAPTER XV

AGNES SHOULDERS RESPONSIBILITY

"Tom Jonah!" screamed Agnes; for in this emergency she recognized the old dog.

He had followed the car from town, had scented out her tracks when she entered the woods, and so had followed Agnes to this spot, afraid to come up with her for fear of being scolded; for, of course, he knew well enough he had disobeyed.

But now the dog's loyalty to one of his little mistresses had brought Tom Jonah out of hiding. The attempt of Asa Scruggs to hold Agnes was an unfortunate move on the clown's part.

Tom Jonah shot out of the bushes, growling fiercely, and charged the man. Scruggs let go of Agnes and shrank back, trying to flee-for the dog looked quite as savage as the wolf Agnes had thought was following her.

As he turned, Scruggs slipped and went down. His right foot twisted under him and the dog's heavy body flung him flat on his back. Tom Jonah held the clown down with both forepaws on his chest and a threatening muzzle at his throat.

Agnes could easily have gotten away now. The clown could not move, and Barnabetta began to cry.

"Oh, Pop! Oh, Pop!" she wailed. "He's going to eat you up!"

Agnes knew Tom Jonah would not let the man rise unless she commanded him to do so. So she did not leave the spot as she had at first intended.

All in an instant, through the interference of the old dog, the tables had been turned.

"If I call him off," she asked, shakingly, of Barnabetta, "will you leave me alone?"

"You've fixed Pop with your nasty old dog-hasn't she, Pop? That's his bad ankle. He can't do anything to you now," declared the trapeze performer.

"And you let that stick alone," commanded Agnes. "Tom Jonah will do anything I tell him to," she added, warningly, and then proved it by calling the old dog to come to her. He came, growling, and showing the red of his eyes as he looked over his shoulder at the prostrate clown.

The man seemed unable to rise, but sat up, groaning, and rubbing the twisted ankle.

"Oh, dear, me!" cried Barnabetta; "that fixes us for another two months.

You won't be able to work at all, Pop, even if we get a job. What ever shall we do?"

Agnes began to feel most unhappy. Her excitement once past, she felt that she was somehow partly to blame for the clown's predicament. And she could not help feeling sorry for him and for this strange girl who was dressed in boy's apparel.

Besides, Agnes felt a sort of admiration for Barnabetta Scruggs. There was romance attached to her. A girl, not much older than Agnes herself, tramping in boy's clothing and meeting all sorts of adventures on the road! Agnes failed to remember that right then Barnabetta and her father were meeting with one very unpleasant adventure.

"Dear me," said the Corner House girl, with sympathy. "Is he really hurt?"

"That's his sprained ankle hurt again. It's even worse than just an ordinary sprain," explained the trapeze performer. "He can't do any stunts, or joey work on crutches, can he? The doctor told him to be careful for a long time with it. What _shall_ we do?"

"He-he won't be able to walk, will he?" gasped Agnes.

"Only on a crutch. We can't do any travelin' on railroads with him this way. And he can't walk. How far's it to Milton?"

"You can get an electric car to town if you follow this woodpath."

"How far?"

"I've been almost an hour and a half walking here from the car."

"Must be four or five miles then," murmured Barnabetta.

"Yes."

"Never can hobble that far-can you, Pop?" asked the circus girl.

"Not yet," groaned the man. He was taking off his shoe and sock. "Get me some snow, Barnabetta," he said.

"My, that's so!" she exclaimed. "We can pack it in snow to take down the swellin'."

"He'll get his foot frostbitten sitting here without any shoe on," said Agnes.

"I'll keep a good fire goin'," said the girl, shortly.

"And stay here all night-in the open?" cried Agnes, horror-stricken at such a thought.

"Where else?" snapped Barnabetta. "There's no place to go. We've got no friends, anyway. And we've mighty little money. We expected to steal a ride South, and sleep in farmers' barns, and the like. We've done it before. But we've never been so bad off as _this_."

She said all this too low for her father to hear. She added: "Pop always had his health and strength before."

"Oh, dear me!" groaned Agnes, impulsively. "I wish Neale were here."

"Oh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the circus girl, sharply. "What Neale's that?"

Agnes remained silent, sorry that she had spoken so thoughtlessly.

"I might have known you were one of those girls," added Barnabetta.

"What girls?" asked Agnes, curiously.

"Those that Neale O'Neil lives with at Milton."

"He doesn't live with us. He lives next door to us-with Mr. Con Murphy."