I knew you'd name one that had a good deal about eating in it." "Stop squabbling," commanded Reddy, his fingers fastened in the back of Hippy's collar, "or down the hill you go.

Keep quiet, now, Tom is going to perform." Tom placed his hands to his mouth.

His friends listened intently.

Then came the peculiar whistle that sounded like the note of a trumpet.

Tom whistled repeatedly, and two minutes later they saw old Jean come racing up the steep path toward them.